Discovering the Hidden Heart
by belladonnacordial
Summary: Snape and Hermione do battle with Slytherin's teachings, House prejudice, Occlumency, PTSD, a magical parasite and find out what they've been missing. HPB compliant, featuring redeemed!Snape and troubled!Granger. HET eventually.
1. In the Garden of the Senses

_Hello dear readers! This is a Hermeverus Grape or should I say a Grangerus tale of ssslow building romance. No really, I mean slow. Fear not, I'll lose patience and get them together eventually! All reviews, con-crit, nonsense, flaming, chat, love letters, geeky blather- all is welcome here and much appreciated. I love you for reading and letting me know- even if you hate it. So settle in and put your feet up, as this might take a good while. Thanks to Aurora for the spelling correction. All mistakes are mine, however._

_Newly edited to American Standard English! (at least I think that is what this is.) As Emmie cleverly picked up on, I am a comma junkie. I went through and got rid of the ones I thought I could do without. If someone brilliant about comma placement wishes to beta, please let me know. _

Discovering the Hidden Heart

Part One

In the Garden of the Senses

After the dark days of Voldemort, came the days of heaven and honey when every day floated, soared, plummeted and bounced just like falling in love over and over again. Suddenly most everyone switched from wearing the somber and serious shades of war to colors that remembered no sadness as outrageously bright as the future. The Headmistress of Hogwarts, usually such a practical witch, took to canceling classes on days when the weather was particularly fine. To thank McGonagall for her good-hearted lapses in common sense her children flitted about the grounds on those free days like so many exotic birds flocking in the sunshine of springtime come late.

Though the weather was finally warming part of the long winter wore on. It had taken up residence in one Hermione Granger. At times, it was all she could do to keep her teeth from chattering. All around her people celebrated the fall of Voldemort. They laughed and danced. They kissed and sang living as though truly alive for the very first time. Hermione stood apart from it all. At best, she was the dispassionate observer. More often than not, she felt like the lone mourner trapped on stage in a musical trying to make sense of loss to find patterns in its chaos while sidestepping the enthusiastic chorus line.

She did not cry. When she felt like crying she reminded herself of Cho after Cedric died. She made up her mind come what may she would not be Cho Chang. She avoided the rest of the Gryffindors and everyone else for that matter as much as her position as Head Girl allowed spending most of her free time in the library. When she could not avoid the others and was too tired to be dispassionate, her anger so carefully contained over boiled the cauldron of her heart settling silently to fill the cracks in her soul.

She was alone now. Her parents were still dead. She hadn't mourned them, not properly. She had not wanted to be Cho then either. Moreover, she'd had Voldemort, her classes, and Harry and Ron to worry about. Now she was without Harry and Ron finally deprived of all the people she loved. Perhaps she felt guilty for not dying with any of them. She wasn't entirely sure that living was what she was doing. Perhaps she was like Binns now though no one had bothered to tell her. Sometimes she felt she would rather be a ghost. She wasn't sure how she felt about living anymore.

She wasn't sure how she really felt- period. On one side, there was her tremendous ghost-like numbness. On the other, was her towering anger. She swung from one to the other like an irregular pendulum. Between these two feelings that she allowed herself to feel was a larger uncharted area. She moved through that swiftly with all her defenses up. To linger or explore there would be too consuming, too tiring and painful. So instead she ignored it.

Small things seemed to set her off- Creevey snapping her photo in the Great Hall when she was sure she must have been looking especially wistful- Padma who stopped abruptly when their gazes met, her big soulful black eyes filling with pity- students from other houses trying to engage her when they had successfully ignored her for the past seven years. The worst was when she saw Neville or Seamus or someone else more like her participating in some ridiculous display of happiness. Little by little she could feel her anger fermenting into hate.

How dare they all act so bloody happy all the time? How can they just forget? Are they really that thick?

She thought about Harry often. She was sorry that she hadn't understood after Sirius died. She wondered how feebly she had tried to cheer or distract him and how many amazingly stupid and thoughtless things she must have said. She wondered how often Harry had hated her then.

Personally she liked her hate. She wore it like psychic armor to keep other people at bay. It made her feel strong enough to get through. It made her feel pure, alive, and focused. Hate was better than numbness for her studies. It also left her exhausted, confused and desperate to slip back into numbness.

Intellectually she had expected all out battle to be terrible. She'd gotten tastes of it throughout her school years. She'd seen films, read books, viewed Guernica at the Prado. The bloody, smoky, noisy, stinking, blinding reality of the final battlefield exceeded her every expectation. It was a horror beyond imagining, beyond description, beyond what even her fine mind could comprehend. At least she knew that she had fought her hardest. Because of that, perhaps in spite of it, or by some fluke of fate, she was one of only five people who had survived THE battle.

There were several battles at Hogwarts that day, the Battle of the Gate, the Battle of the Great Hall, other smaller skirmishes throughout the castle and its grounds. The Death Eaters had superior force. Their strategy beyond initial surprise (spoiled by Snape) was divide and conquer. Hers was what had come to be called the Main Battle since Harry met Voldemort there near the border of the Forbidden Forest. While 'The Main Battle' sounded so much more dignified than 'The Battle of Hagrid's Hut' the Death Eater's burning of that structure more or less started the whole thing. Since Hagrid and Fang weren't in the hut it hardly seemed serious that is until Voldemort, his elite inner circle, and a small army of his finest foot soldiers showed up.

Three, herself, Luna Lovegood, and Snape came through it all with hardly a scratch. Seamus and Blaise were near death at the end but survived thanks to Snape's skillful triage. Everyone else there, forty seven Death Eaters, one Dark Lord, thirteen Ministry aurors, Harry and Ron, Albus Dumbledore, five other Order of the Phoenix members, seven of the DA, as well as two seventh year Slytherins, Pansy and Millicent, who took a stand like Blaise with their former Head of House to the eternal glory of Slytherin were just as dead as if they had never existed. Sometimes she felt like she had dreamed them all.

Ron died quickly, one of the first casualties of the Light. He shoved past to take an Avada Kedavra that Voldemort had meant for Snape. It was somehow typical. With Ron actions always did speak louder than words. Ron gave every impression that he despised Snape. He railed against the man every chance he got. In the end, Ron had unquestionably saved Snape's life by dying in his place. She wondered if the act was just an instinctual Gryffindorism, a heroic reflex, or whether Ron was thinking chess again and viewed Snape as the more valuable piece to help Harry win the game. Neither case would surprise her.

Harry nearly made it. He stepped up and cursed Voldemort to dust right after Ron fell. He had defeated a Dark Lord. No one knows how. He did it as effortlessly as casting a Lumos. Harry then took out Death Eater after Death Eater with frightening power and precision. Even after Dumbledore fell and most of the enemy attack centered on Harry, he deflected multiple Dark spells at a time sending them back to their sources augmented by his own offensive spells. Harry was everything everyone thought he was and more. He was an army of Harry. Right at the end, as the smoke was clearing Harry turned to her and asked her if she were all right, then fell over dead the last victim of Lucius Malfoy who had simply played dead to that point and entered history as the wizard who killed the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Defeat-Voldemort.

Hermione wasn't exactly sure what happened after that. She came to her senses when Snape removed a large rock from her hands and would not give it back to her no matter how much she begged. That was when she noticed the mushy mess she had made of Lucius Malfoy's skull. She wanted to curl her arms around Lucius and sleep then. His chest smelled like sun, lemons, bay leaves, and wealth. She wanted to pull his cloak over her head to filter out the stink of war, the mingled scents of blood, smoke, and feces, and to employ the stillness of his chest for a pillow. She wanted to use a cooling enemy to shut out the death all around her.

Snape ordered her up and commanded her to help him with Finnigan and Zabini. She did as he told just as she always did going through motions, taking breaths, walking, talking when required to do so. Despite all that, she was fairly certain that she was dead too.

Life was what happened around her in a series of Muggle photos- still, black and white, two-dimensional images. Their flashes imprinted an obscene slide show on her mind- her filthy hands holding pressure on Seamus' exposed artery- Snape licking someone else's blood from his own lips- Luna pulling a lens from Dumbledore's glasses from between the bones of Blaise's wand hand- others approaching as if in stop time, official people, people with equipment, healers, clean people, strangers. Luna looking as though she had just swam a river of blood wandered off with them as they moved Seamus and Blaise to the infirmary.

Then there was only Snape looking pretty much the same in black and white as he did in full color. There was something entirely comforting about that. He stayed supporting her merely with his silent presence. She did not know how long they had lingered there or how long she had stared at him before picking herself up and stumbling over the dead back to the castle.

Snape.

She had never known quite what to make of him- except in first year when she knew that he was evil and trying to kill Harry, and after sixth, when she knew that he was evil having murdered Albus Dumbledore. Somehow, she always believed even when Snape was evil that he would fight on the side of the Light in the end. Fight he did, alongside a very living Dumbledore and thirteen Ministry aurors. In the beginning, he was part of the protective wall in front of them, well, in front of Harry mainly. Even as the battle raged she was aware of him. He was magnificent, a controlled fury of Light and Dark Magic. Toward the end, after her wand had been blown to bits in her hand when she was using wandless magic and Blaise's wand as substitutes without much accuracy he was her sword as well as her shield. After six years of seeing the man nearly every day and almost a year of absence Snape was in so many ways a complete unknown.

Snape took her the next day to replace her broken wand. It was a quick, perfunctory, no nonsense visit. She ran along beside his long strides through the rowdy block party of Diagon Alley as if clambering through a dream. She came away with ten inches of teak, firm with a dolphin hair at its center. Twirling it between her fingers that night alone in her room except for Crookshanks stretched happily into oblivion across her lap she decided nothing made her feel less like the little girl she had been than this strange new wand that somehow felt so right in her hands.

Snape stepped back effortlessly into the Potions position and as Head of House for Slytherin taking over for Slughorn who was the only casualty on the side of Light in the Battle of the Great Hall. It was as if Snape had never left. In those first few days after the battle, Snape became her shadow and dark reflection. She was as alone and just as apart as Snape now. Perhaps that was why he watched her. He was always there. Even when she could not see him she sensed him at her edges.

One Wednesday night, nearly two weeks after the battle she was sitting on a stone bench in the herb garden when an unforgettable scent reached across time transporting her back to first year and to the first time she took notice of his radiant personal scent, that constant base note in an ever-changing perfume of potions ingredients. It was unmistakably male, wild, earthy, and hyper-sexual, a smell that spoke to her in equal parts of suspicion and trust, tyranny and sacrifice, venom and valor, pettiness and excellence. It was the fragrance of one of her dual-natured deities since childhood, this scent of Severus Snape.

He approached noiselessly from behind drawing close enough to touch her though he did not. She closed her eyes half expecting to feel hot breath on her neck or to hear his cyanide almonds dipped in chocolate voice very near to her ear. Minutes passed. He said and did nothing. Somehow she knew that he knew how aware she was of his presence and of his recent attention. The man was a natural Legilimens after all. Perhaps she didn't need to speak to him. She did anyway.

"Thank you for everything, sir."

"I have not given you everything, Miss Granger."

She did not turn around nor ask him to sit down. He was just a voice and a scent, a comfort in the darkness.

"You've given me much."

"Do not squander it then."

"Is that what I'm doing?"

He touched her shoulder. She turned slightly. She looked up to meet his eyes. He was pale as the moon and black as its shadow. He was the night.

"You may direct your anger at me."

"Why? Do you find you require even more punishment?" Snape pulled his hand away as if scalded. The fleeting pained expression on his features made her feel contrite. "You should forgive yourself, Professor."

Snape moved to stand beside the bench. He did not sit.

"You should not let your anger over Mister Weasley's death consume you."

"Ron did what he did. It was a good decision. You helped Harry far more than he could have. Regardless, I wouldn't wish you dead in his place, sir. It's not you I hate. It's everyone else."

"I am aware of that."

"Why are you are worried about me? No one else is."

"Dumbledore would have worried about you."

"Yes. He would have."

"The others will not notice because your schoolwork will never suffer. If anything it has improved. People who do not know the escape of work and study would not recognize your increased reliance upon them as a symptom of distress."

"Does that explain Wolfsbane Potion?"

"Most eloquently."

"What would you have me do, sir?"

"Miss Granger, confide in someone who might understand. Could you speak to Miss Lovegood, perhaps?"

"Professor, have you tried speaking to Luna? Ever? About anything at all?"

"Admittedly, I have not."

"Don't start now what ever you do."

"You are welcome to speak with me. I know that I am- a poor substitute for-"

"Stop! Yes sir, I'll talk to you when I can. I'm not ready for that yet."

"You will come to my office tomorrow night at eight. You will stay the hour. I do not care whether you speak or not."

He moved away receding into the shadows. She knew he still watched her. After another half hour perhaps, Hermione left the garden and returned to her room. Though it was not cold she charmed the room warmer. She lit a fire. She drank a spicy herbal tea so hot it burned her mouth. She took a steaming bath. She dressed in her warmest flannel. She charmed a warming spell on the covers of her bed. She pulled Crookshanks close. Nothing dissipated the phantom cold, her inner winter that she felt all the way down to her bones.

_A/N- Dolphins really do have hair- just the newborns, though. They are born with some, whisker-like, about the face. They lose it as they grow. Even in adults, one can see the indentations where the hairs were. To me, dolphins qualify as the most magical of creatures._


	2. Meeting on Thin Ice

This chapter goes out to my wonderful reviewers of chapter one. Karen, Shdwcat27, vanityfair, Starbridge, PowerPunk (one of my favourite people) Bene Gesserit Witch, and Tulipsaside- from the bottom of my heart, I thank you all.

_Newly edited to American Standard English! (At least I think that is what this is.) As Emmie cleverly picked up on, I am a comma junkie. I went through and misplaced the ones I thought I could do without. If someone brilliant about comma placement wishes to beta, please let me know. Remember that there is no such thing as nit-picking. All corrections and comments welcomed and appreciated!_

Discovering the Hidden Heart

Part Two

Meeting on Thin Ice

After the battle, out of the blood soaked soil bloomed the black flower of growing awareness. At its multi-petalled center Snape saw the depth and breadth of his own personal failures. The best evidence of the worst of his failures were the living senses beholding the flower and the living mind to which those senses reported. He had run scenarios, strategies, and back up plans through every obstacle course his mind could conjure. None of the scenarios passing those tests made provisions for his continued survival. He died helping to defeat Voldemort every time in every way imaginable.

Sometimes he died pointlessly or as a helpful distraction. He died when Voldemort realized how near he had kept his enemy and how much trust he had placed in a shrewd traitor. He died protecting Harry Potter who seemed to need so much protecting yet seemed to muddle through even when facing impossible odds alone. He died as Ron Weasley died doing something tremendously stupid and unforgivably brave. He died bathed clean in a sea of green light with a smile on his lips. He died explosively with his consciousness and body blown apart and strewn in all directions for miles. He died writhing in an agonizing vice of pain. That was always his best guess. Nowhere was a scene written or conceived or even joked about not even in the most morbid corners of his mind that approached these real events as they unfolded where one of five survivors just happened to be him.

How could he live standing among a pile of dead children with their innocent blood pooling on the cold ground around him? How could he outlive Miss Parkinson when she had only just discovered who she was and all the life her future held? How could he outlast Miss Bulstrode as sturdy and reliable as dragon hide yet younger than the best of his clothes? How could he outlive both these two little snakes that he was honor-bound to protect with every ounce of his life? How could he outlive Potter, the boy with the singular talent for refusing to submit to death? How could he outlive Weasley who had not yet sired his red-headed litter of future Gryffindors that would be some other poor bastard's trial by fire when it came to Potions instructing. How could he outlive Dumbledore twice? Perhaps he had been born hating himself. He was certainly an expert at it. However, he had never hated himself enough to know exactly how much he could hate himself until now.

After everyone who would die had died and everyone who was injured was whisked away to recover he found himself still alive still there on the battlefield beside Hermione Granger, the person who had the most recent good reason to despise him. She was kneeling next to him amidst the corpses close enough to kiss. There were no tears, no hysterics, not even an apparent need to speak. She was staring, deciding what to do with him most likely though she had no wand now. He hoped that she despised him enough to kill him. Certainly, death would solve all of his problems. He handed his wand to her. Her blood stained fingers closed around it. She never took her eyes off him. She twirled his wand absently then held it out for him to take again. He took it and tucked it away. He waited. He relaxed. If she wanted to physically attack him, he would let her. Perhaps she would find another rock just for him. He just hoped she did kill him as opposed to making his life even more miserable.

While he waited Snape noticed the little changes that had shaped her in the year he was away. Her hair was longer now. Her face and figure were more defined. Had he not known about the little girl who had sat in his class as a first year he would have described the person next to him as a young woman. Hers was not an ostentatious beauty like that of a young Narcissa Malfoy, nor was Miss Granger plain. Each individual feature was pleasing enough on its own to become a matter of taste. Perhaps some would think her forehead too high or her eyes too far apart or too close together. Perhaps her lips were too full or too thin. Taken as a whole her face was a Raphael portrait, a loveliness revealing itself to the eye slowly as if in a dance of veils. Hers was a beauty that seemed to increase the longer one looked. Suddenly he realized that he had been staring at her a very long time. He looked away. He looked down at the bloody earth. When he glanced up again she was some distance from him making her way between corpses of friend and foe back to her life.

Snape cast a cleaning spell on himself and found McGonagall in the chaos at the castle. He informed her of Dumbledore's death and convinced her that she was a better choice for Headmistress than he was for Headmaster. Together they compiled a list of the dead and notified next of kin. They dealt with the Ministry, other officials, and reporters. They made funeral arrangements. They scheduled repairs and found candidates for replacing fallen faculty. They did a thousand other things all requiring immediate attention. Other professors and staff stopped in to help. They worked all night. Early the next morning, Snape just stood up and left. He went to his quarters to shower and dress. He found Miss Granger at breakfast and informed her that they were now leaving Hogwarts to replace her wand. After a quick stop at Gringotts then another at Ollivanders they flooed back to Hogsmeade.

He never thought to question why he had taken her until late that night when finally he tried to sleep. In the darkness of his bed, he tossed and turned his odd behavior over in his mind. He came to the conclusion that he felt he owed her for Weasley's death. She had not wanted his death in return, or even his pain. Taking her to get a wand really was the least he could do.

Minerva did not ask him to take over as Potions professor or as Head of House. She did not need to ask. The voids were there. He filled them. He found that Slughorn had not made too large of a mess of his supplies, files, and lesson plans. His personal suite, office, and private potions lab had been closed and left untouched except by the House Elves who had maintained them. After a day or two of organization and resupplying, he felt as though he had never left. All too soon he found himself with far too little to do to occupy all the glorious extra time that he had to himself. That was when he started to notice Miss Granger.

While the other students took every opportunity to congregate and celebrate Miss Granger took every chance to be alone. He monitored her. At least she was eating well enough at meals. He observed her demeanor. He paid close attention to the quality of work she handed to him. He even discreetly enquired of the faculty about her, along with Zabini, Finnigan and Lovegood.

Somewhere along the line he noticed a problem or imagined one. He was never certain which until the Wednesday evening he confronted her in the herb garden. He watched her for a long time before he approached her. She sat. She did not read and did not look about her. She was not waiting for someone. She was completely alone and doing nothing at all, whatsoever. That was when he knew.

He was not sure what he planned to accomplish by gaining her confidence. He knew he could do it. He knew it would help her if he could induce her to talk about Weasley, the war, her parents, and what ever else weighed upon her. He was not sure why he felt the need. Perhaps she was his penance for the ones he had lost, for Parkinson and Bulstrode, for Goyle, Crabbe and Draco Malfoy, for Potter the brat who saved the world, and for Ronald Weasley who had the gall to deny him a nice clean painless death.

As the hour of their meeting approached Snape became more and more uneasy. Part of him was convinced that he was about to make some grave error in judgment that he would live to deeply regret. Part of him knew the assumption was irrational. He had survived countless summons by a Dark Lord. What possible threat could Miss Granger pose next to that?

He found he could not sit still. He looked around his office for things to do to pass the time. Since there was only one chair by the hearth he transfigured another exactly the same. Then he changed the second chair's shape and upholstery, so that the chairs no longer matched. Exactly the same chairs implied too much liberty, fraternity and equality for Snape's tastes. He did wish her to feel comfortable and reasonably relaxed. He decided to offer her tea. He made a pot of the best he had on hand and placed a spell to keep it hot. Since he had no idea how she fixed it he supplied milk, sugar, honey, and lemon from his own kitchen. Finally, he placed a spell on his wand to warn him when she entered his corridor only to find that she was already there standing just on the other side of his office door.

Hermione arrived five minutes early. If he were going to make her next hour on earth a proverbial descent into the fire pit at least he wouldn't have her tardiness as a convenient excuse for doing so. She decided to pace for four minutes and forty five seconds before knocking. The thought of spending the next hour talking to Snape was making her hands sweat. What on earth did they have to discuss? She doubted that every word they ever had spoken out of class added up to an entire hour of conversation. Part of her anxiety was the man himself. She had no idea what to expect from him anymore. She had never met anyone more versed at being universally unpleasant. Yet he had been so decent to her recently. What if he were in a less charitable mood tonight?

Worse than the thought of talking to Snape for an hour was the thought of just sitting across from him for an entire sixty minutes not speaking. Which ever way it went her hour with him was certain to be excruciating. She agreed to do this! In effect, she'd given herself detention! What on earth was she thinking?

When the second hand on her Muggle watch swept to the appropriate position she knocked. He opened the door as if he had been standing on the other side of it for five minutes waiting.

"You are early."

She nodded suppressing an irrational urge to apologize.

"Do come in, Miss Granger."

She walked inside. He closed off her only escape. They both just stood there, by the door, staring at each other. Snape looked nearly as ill at ease as she felt. "Have a seat by the fire. I have a pot of Sri Lankan Orange Pekoe. Would you care for a cup?"

"Please."

"How do you take it?"

"Just some milk, sir."

Hermione looked around her. His office had changed slightly from the last time she had seen it. There were now two large winged back chairs near the hearth, one in soft gray, the other in dark blue. She took the blue one because it was slightly closer to the hearth.

Snape levitated her cup to her then took his own cup to the gray chair. They sipped in silence. She was grateful that he was watching the dancing fire and not watching her being especially careful not to spill hot tea on herself.

"Thank you for inviting me and for the tea, sir," Hermione said finally.

"You may feel free to help yourself should you wish another cup. How are you sleeping since the battle, Miss Granger?"

"Fine." She glanced up to see that he was looking at her now clearly expecting more than a one word response. "I'm fairly sure I'm having strange dreams but I can't remember them. How are you sleeping, sir?"

Snape looked pained by the familiarity of the question. Well, what did he expect? He just asked her the very same thing!

"Better than I have in years. Do you feel fortunate that you do not remember your dreams?"

"I do remember them occasionally though not often and not since the battle." Hermione shifted her empty cup and saucer from one hand to the other. There was no where convenient to put it down except perhaps on the floor which she was not about to do. She noticed that Snape had balanced his still half full cup in its saucer on his knee. She was certain hers would end up in pieces were she to attempt something like that. Just thinking about it seemed to make her leg muscles twitch involuntarily. The Reparo spell could fix the cup, of course, but not her nerves after listening to it shatter or her embarrassment at having Snape witness such clumsiness. She decided to hold it on her lap with both hands and forced herself not to fidget with it. "I read that while in REM state human brainwaves resonate at an average of ten hertz. The earth also resonates at ten hertz. When we dream we may resonate with the Earth." Gods! She was spouting stupid observations based on trivia as she was wont to do when she got this nervous or drank too much. What she wouldn't give for a shot of fire-whiskey right now! "Do you remember your dreams, sir?"

"I practice Occlumency at a very advanced level."

He seemed to be under the impression that what he had said answered her question sufficiently.

"Does that mean you don't dream at all?"

"Yes and no. Chemically my brain processes in the usual manner of dreaming. The dream images and other sensations are blocked. It is rather like dreaming a blank, a void, a dark screen."

She'd read books about Occlumency and waded through all kinds of conflicting information yet had never come across anything about dream suppression which was probably part of the reason Harry became so frustrated.

"I see. I understand why for years you had to do that. You don't have to now, though. Do you, sir?" Perhaps Snape did not deem that question worthy of an answer. He was staring at her as though she were speaking Bantu and his translator spell wasn't working. Why was her mouth so dry? She thought about getting herself more tea. Apparently, at the moment the act required some form of bravery this Gryffindor left behind in the towers. She just couldn't help herself. She opened her mouth and out flew, "Many Muggle artists believe that dream images inspire their waking creativity." Her voice was sounding very high and very shrill. She imagined if there were dogs in the Forbidden Forest, they'd all be howling their heads off. "Have you thought about not practicing Occlumency for a while? Just to give your brain a bit of a treat?"

"I doubt my dreams could be considered -a treat- even by my brain, Miss Granger. Still, I will consider doing so if only as an experiment." Snape took up his cup again and sipped never taking his eyes off her. "How is your appetite?"

Merlin, was she really going to tell him this? "At some point during the battle I lost color vision. Everything went to grey scale-"

Snape lurched abruptly forward now looking as if he were crouching to kill something and spat the words,

"WHY DID YOU NOT TELL SOMEONE?" at her.

Hermione was glad had not been balancing anything during his outburst. Even so she nearly launched the tea cup off the saucer she was gripping white knuckled.

"Sir, I'm fine now. I was back to normal the next day. It's just that I can't eat anything red. I can't look at red meat. I can look at red apples or red cherries but have no desire to eat them. Somehow the House Elves know. I haven't seen anything remotely red on the Gryffindor table."

Strangely enough his display of anger seemed to relax them both. Everything seemed more normal. When he spoke again his voice was soft and soothing, a tone most people reserve for young children and the raving mad. Luckily, she had heard Snape terrorizing members of both of those groups plenty of times. She knew that what ever this dulcet tone was from Snape it wasn't a judgment of non compos mentis.

"This aversion will pass, Miss Granger."

"Speaking from experience?"

"Yes."

Snape settled back in his chair. Hermione stood and asked Snape if he would care for another cup. He took his tea the same way that she did. When they were well into their second cups, Hermione put forward a question she had always wanted to ask.

"Sir, why did you hate the Muggle-born when you were at school?"

"I did not, Miss Granger."

"Then why did you join?"

"I was extremely well suited to the task. Someone had to do it."

"What? Spy?"

Snape looked like he regretted the admission, but nodded.

"The whole time?"

"Long before I took the Dark Mark."

"Before you took it?"

"Being a Slytherin I found myself in a most unique position at a crucial time. I began informing Dumbledore directly of the outside influences effecting Slytherin House. I first proposed my ideas for infiltrating the Death Eaters to Dumbledore the middle of my fourth year. Though he had been in favor of my initial activities he worried when I suggested taking them to a higher level. When the time came, he urged me not to allow myself to be recruited by Voldemort. That decision was not his to make. By that point, even had I wanted to back away and perhaps a part of me did I would have succeeded only in drawing unwanted and unhealthy attention to myself."

"So that's why Dumbledore trusted you."

"I like to think that I gave him many reasons. That was one. I would prefer you keep this information to yourself, Miss Granger. McGonagall is now the only other person who knows."

"Of course, sir. But why would you want to keep those activities a secret now?"

"Because it is my affair, no one else's."

"Why did you tell me?"

"You asked me. Answering your questions builds a foundation of mutual trust between us. Also, I am hoping that by knowing more about me you will feel more at ease talking to me."

So he's trying to use psychology but explaining it first? "Aren't you defeating your purpose by telling me what you are trying to do, sir?"

"Am I? You are not stupid, Miss Granger. How could I hope to gain your trust by treating you as if you were or by evading your curiosity or by lying to you?"

"Do you intend to discuss what I tell you with the Headmistress or Madame Pomfrey?"

"No. I will not betray your trust."

Now that statement should have sounded ridiculous coming from Snape of all people. For some odd reason, every ounce of her being believed him. "Will you answer another question that's none of my business to ask?"

"I will do my best to give you an answer."

"What part did you take in what happened to Harry's parents?"

"They died because of me. I did try to stop it but failed."

"It was Pettigrew's betrayal and Voldemort's doing. How could their deaths be your fault? "

"There is more than enough blame to go around. As a spy for Voldemort I had to provide a constant stream of new information to avoid his suspicion. I was able to clear most of it with Dumbledore first. At times, I had to report what I deemed the most useless bits of information. I would then inform Dumbledore of what I had revealed after the fact. I repeated what I overheard of that prophesy to Voldemort. Please understand that I had never taken Divination seriously. If you think Trelawney is useless you should have met her predecessor. I did not know that what I had overheard was genuine. I took one look at Trelawney and assumed that she was the worst kind of fraud."

"She is a fraud."

"Of course, since she is completely unaware of the extent of her ability or how to use it. Her performance which was an occurrence of accidental magic looked to me like nothing more than a half-witted attempt to deceive Dumbledore into giving her the Divination position. Even had I recognized the event as genuine I would have had no idea to whom that prophesy applied. Relaying the incident struck me as a way to show Voldemort what a desperate, doddering, old fool Dumbledore had become- all the better for Voldemort to underestimate him. I never imagined Voldemort would take it seriously or that he would find babes in nappies a threat to his power. I certainly never imagined that passing along what I considered rubbish information would murder the Potters, create the Boy-Who-Lived, and thereby fulfill the prophesy itself. However, when Voldemort marked the Potter's for death I informed them immediately which was why they went into hiding."

"You were the perfect instrument to facilitate the fulfillment of that prophesy. Had anyone else overheard, other than perhaps Voldemort, that prophesy never could have come to fruition. But if Voldemort had not believed in Divination any more than you did-"

"Yes, all very ironic, isn't it? Tell me, do you harbor resentment toward Purebloods?"

"I'm a bit off people in general at the moment but no, no more than anyone else. The Weasley's are Purebloods. As is Neville and Blaise. I can't say I ever warmed up to Pansy or Millicent. I did have a lot of respect for them in the end. There was a time that I thought Draco might have turned out much better than he did."

"He had that potential. Unfortunately, he could never manage to become a true Malfoy. He could not see his way past Lucius."

"What do mean? A true Malfoy?"

"Theirs was a very old and very proud family. Lucius' father would have sooner died than bow to anyone."

"What happened to him?"

"Lucius tired of bowing to his father. He betrayed both of his parents. He had them murdered so that he could inherit. That was why he needed Voldemort. Draco should have done the same. There was ample evidence that both Lucius and Narcissa were Death Eaters. If he had betrayed them to the Light he would have inherited and probably received the Order of Merlin for his trouble."

"Instead he goes and murders my parents."

"I should not have spoken lightly of such things."

"Professor, you don't have to walk on egg shells. I don't understand why you are bothering to talk to me at all."

"Because I now have time and the freedom to do so. Why did you agree to this meeting, Miss Granger?"

"I was asking myself the same question earlier. I guess you are the least of all evils."

He did not smile but managed to look amused all the same.

"I'm certain it is the first and last time I will ever be called such. Please do explain the meaning of that statement."

"I think you are right, sir. I do need to speak to someone. At least you aren't singing and dancing and wearing glow-in-the-dark pink and canceling classes so that students can sunbathe. Merlin! Even Dumbledore never did any of that!"

"He did wear that color, but only to the Ministry. Minerva will calm down eventually. She misses him. She is adjusting by living vicariously through the student body. At least this is my theory."

"Were they a couple?"

"No. They were very dear friends. Minerva has been seeing another professor for years."

"Do I want to know?"

"Probably not. Perhaps a change of subject is in order. Do you have any more questions to which you would -like- to know the answers?"

"I'm bracing myself, sir. Who's with McGonagall?"

"Flitwick."

"He is Charming!"

"So says his coffee mug."

"What does yours say, Professor?"

"My coffee mug was a gift from Dumbledore."

"And it says?"

Snape looked truly miserable. "Three words in Braille."

"In Braille?"

"Yes, I have an interest in alternate forms of communication- codes, alphabets, sign language, and the like."

"Did that come in handy while spying?"

"How on earth would it have?"

"I don't know. You may have had to give Dumbledore a secret message or something."

"When I had to give Dumbledore a secret message I spoke to Dumbledore in his office. It always seemed more practical than attempting semaphore at dinner in the Great Hall."

"Are you making fun of me?"

"Yes."

"So what are those three words, exactly?"

"Slytherin Love Potion."

"Is that accurate, Professor?"

"You know very well how I am the first class of the morning."

"You are the stuff of legend any time of day, sir."

"Perhaps, but I am far worse without caffeine."

"Me too. Hogwarts has turned me into a caffeine addict. I never had tea, coffee, or even hot chocolate before I came here. Now I can't do without."

"Do you mean you never even tried tea before you came here?"

"Not proper tea. We used to drink mint or rose hip infusions and call it tea. Both my parents were dentists. They were obsessed about teeth stains, tannic acid, and the leaching of calcium. I never had sweets, either."

"I would like to think that caffeine and sugar addictions are the worst habits that we have taught you."

"I very much doubt it, sir."

"As do I. Nine o'clock, Miss Granger. Time for your rounds."

"I thought this was going to be really horrible."

"And was it?"

"No. Thank you, sir."

"I shall see you tomorrow night at eight. Good night, Miss Granger."


	3. Leaps of Faith

Did I mention? Now edited to American Standard Spelling! If you see any their that should be there or they're, please do let me know. My commas still need help if any betas out there are interested. A million blessings to Shdwcat27, Bene Gesserit Witch (did I mention how much I respect the Bene Gesserit Order?), toostupidforyou (I highly doubt that), adele rose and Mari Skyrin-Sarker. All of you are too beautiful for any of my words. I write for you because it is all I can offer you. This chapter is for my reviewers without whom my life is emptier leaving more room for dust and cat hair to accumulate. As always everything from comments, critiques, corrections, jokes, chat, flames, to monkeys on keyboards typing Shakespeare- all is welcome here.

Discovering the Hidden Heart

Part Three

Leaps of Faith

The next day, as she hurried from class to class or tried to find ways to pass the time between them Hermione caught herself thinking about Snape as she often did lately when she was alone. Instead of dreading their meeting Hermione found herself looking forward to having another conversation with him. At lunch, she realized she was beginning to notice aspects of him that she had never before considered. It occurred to her for example that Snape was an odd blend of stealth and presence. He could command a room entirely just by being in it or could fade into obscurity the next second so effectively that people would swear he had left though he had not in fact moved from the spot. She wondered how he managed those completely public disappearing acts. Was it mass hypnosis, a shielding spell, or some sort of personal Disillusionment Charm? Hermione did not think so. For one thing, she had become completely immune to this power he possessed. Since his return she was always aware of him. She could tell by the way they acted that other people were not. She remembered a story she had read once about a Muggle film star.

The star was walking down a busy city street with her friend. They had been out and about for several hours together. The friend remarked how odd it was that no one had recognized the star that day. The star turned to her friend and said,

"Watch this."

The star did nothing different. Her demeanor and expression remained the same. A crowd of people suddenly materialized around them. Traffic stopped. Someone shouted,

"That's Marilyn Monroe!"

That kind of voodoo has nothing to do with wands and spells Hermione decided. She wondered if it were a gift from the Gods. What ever it was Snape had plenty of it albeit he used it differently.

She had noticed subtle changes in the man since Voldemort's demise. He looked better rested and generally less edgy. In class, he was his same charming self though. He was just as quick to challenge, humiliate, take points, and hand out detentions. Instead of being appalled along with the rest of the student body, Hermione decided that his consistency was comforting.

There was that word again. How on earth could anyone in their right mind find comfort in anything to do with Snape? It occurred to her and not for the first time that she might not be in her right mind. Snape was the only one trying to help her with that, too. At one time, she would have thought that it was a case of the blind leading the blind. She wasn't so sure now.

Considering how the man had spent the last twenty years or so it was remarkable that he was at all functional. Yet he had been and continued to be far more than just that. He had managed to teach, supply the infirmary, pioneer research, publish papers, spy for Dumbledore and Voldemort, conduct his other duties as a Death Eater and as an Order Member, and serve as the Head of House for Slytherin, and still had time to give out who knows how many thousands of detentions. In fact, during her first six years he had managed to seem as omnipresent in the castle as Filch and Mrs. Norris put together. These were only his activities of which she was aware. She wondered briefly if it were possible that Snape were really a set of twins or had cloned himself successfully at some point in his youth.

Since she had eaten a very light dinner, she stopped by the kitchens before her meeting. She showed up at Snape's office door carrying two small plates and a tea towel draped basket. The towel looked suspiciously ratty like the ones that the House Elves wore. She wondered if this were their commentary on all her attempts to give them clothes. She timed her steps carefully. At precisely eight o'clock she arrived at his office door and knocked.

The door opened. Snape looked up from his grading and then stood as she entered.

"Do come in, Miss Granger. You are on time."

"I was a bit hungry so I brought us savory scones. The House Elves said you like them, sir."

Snape looked completely floored.

"I hope you don't mind?"

"No, I do not mind. It was- most thoughtful of you."

Something in Hermione's chest constricted. It seemed thoroughly wrong to her that someone who had sacrificed so much for so many was shocked by the smallest of kindnesses.

He seemed to recover and poured them each a cup of tea. "I am surprised that they speak to you all. I have it on good authority that you are the only person in the castle known to terrify House Elves more than I do."

She transfigured a small table between the two chair by the fire so they could help themselves to scones and have something on which to set their teacups. She thanked Snape for the tea and took the same chair she had sat in the last time.

"At least -I- never threatened to turn them all into Potions ingredients," said Hermione with a look of disapproval Ron and Harry would have recognized.

"I am certain they would prefer that fate to becoming the proud owners of haute couture by Granger."

"I do think you are probably right about that, sir."

"You know what they say about a good intention?"

"That the road to Hell is paved with them?"

"No, " said Snape taking a seat, helping himself to a scone from the basket, "though the same idea is in play. The wizard's version is, 'The scourge of curses all surpassed with just one good intention cast'. Folklore holds that Salazar Slytherin said it to Helga Hufflepuff. However, the first known written version of that story appears over three hundred years after both Slytherin and Hufflepuff and anyone eavesdropping on their conversations had turned to dust. I find it far more likely that the author of that written account attributed a false origin based on what was known of the Founders personalities."

"One could take that quote two ways."

"Only you would think so, Miss Granger."

They were silent for a while eating scones and drinking tea. Snape seemed just as hungry as she was. When her plate had only crumbs left and her tea was nearing the bottom, she said,

"There is a dating spell for objects and a translation spell for phrases. Do you think that those two spells could be combined somehow to create a dating spell for phrases?"

"It sounds like a theory worth pursuing."

"While pinning down the date would not prove that Slytherin said it, it could disprove the belief that he originated the phrase if that date did not coincide with his lifetime. You could narrow the possible dates further with what is known of their lives and the timeline of their acquaintance."

"I agree with most of your assertions. However, you can not disprove a belief. While you may show evidence to the contrary you will find that a mountain of such evidence does little to change even a single person's faith."

"Perhaps not right away. Some science requires many generations to become widely accepted."

"Your faith is in science, Miss Granger. Realize that few wizards Muggle-born or otherwise hold your beliefs."

"You do."

"Do you find me the typical wizard?"

"No sir. Never that. What place do you believe science holds in Wizardry?"

"The same as education, too small a place to Wizardry's detriment. Look around you. You attend the most exclusive Wizarding school in Britain. Here, the creme de la creme of the crop daydream, nap and stare blankly. How many of your classmates do you envision becoming leaders in a field like Divination or the History of Magic, never mind Potions or Arithmancy? How many do you imagine will bother to continue at a University? How many even try to get top grades here? How many seventh years other than you, Neville Longbottom, a few Ravenclaws, and two Slytherins ever read a scholarly text not required for a class?"

"I do see your point, sir."

"Do you realize what a rarity you are? You are a powerful witch. You are the finest student I've ever had the privilege to teach. You are living proof that everything Voldemort stood for was the worst kind of lie. Your mind alone could cement your place among the likes of Salazar Slytherin and Rowena Ravenclaw. You have also been tested by war, and proved yourself, once again, brave enough to make Godric Gryffindor Slytherin green with envy. Even Helga Hufflepuff would appreciate all your extra efforts."

"I don't know what to say, sir. I never thought I'd hear any praise from you at all. That might be the nicest compliment anyone ever presented me."

"I shall deny speaking it with my dying breath."

"Your reputation is safe as Gringotts. Not to mention that no one would believe me, unless I told them you said something like 'Miss Granger, too bad the slight amount of intelligence you demonstrate is bound to your complete lack of common sense. If such were not the case you might have one day become a productive member of the Wizarding World despite your grating voice and insufferable personality.' I do think more than a few people might believe something like that."

"Which of you insolent young savages does the best Snape impression?"

"Ron did. It was uncanny. Far better than Draco's though I don't think his was an impression. I think he just wanted to be you, sometimes. Maybe he just wanted to seem as intimidating. How well did you know him?"

"Mr. Weasley?"

"Malfoy."

"He was often ill as an infant and young child. Lucius had a profound distrust of healers. Perhaps he just did not want them poking around the manor. When Draco fell ill Lucius would ask me to care for him. Apart from Death Eater business which was often conducted there I socialized at Malfoy Manor on occasion. As Draco grew I spent far too much time watching Lucius and Narcissa crushing all the spirit and individuality out of him. I watched them remake him in their own images. By the time he started school he was as vain, greedy, and cruel as either of them yet as effective, sly, and charming as neither. In my opinion, he became the very worst of both of his parents. That is saying something. From time to time, I would glimpse a little sparkle of young Draco under their conditioning. It gave me hope. As his Head of House, I tried to be as much of a positive influence as would not get me tortured to death and to subtly counter some of his father's authority. My efforts were insufficient."

"Clearly you were a positive influence on Millicent, Pansy, and Blaise."

"I was not a genuine influence on any of their decisions. Blaise told me that Pansy felt more Slytherin than Parkinson and that I represented Slytherin for her. I believe she had other more personal reasons for siding with the Light. Millicent looked to me to see which side I thought would win. She trusted my judgment. Only Blaise acted out of conscience and genuine forethought. He was as surprised as anyone that he and I fought on the same side.

"I think you are underestimating your influence, sir."

"You are hardly an expert on the inner workings of Slytherin House, Miss Granger. On what basis have you formulated an opinion?"

"A comparative basis, sir."

"I doubt comparing Gryffindor to Slytherin qualifies as a foundation for any sort of substantive analysis including an informed opinion as to my effectiveness as Head of House."

"I was comparing Salazar Slytherin's doctrines to a Muggle religion, sir."

"Well done Miss Granger. I am now far too curious to be dismissive. Please do elaborate on your comparison."

"You and Voldemort were the only two priests preaching the religion of Salazar. Voldemort picked out one passage in a great book of teachings. He interpreted that passage to mean- persecute Muggles and Muggle-borns because they are the root of all evil. Having observed that Muggles and Muggle-borns aren't the root of all evil you interpreted the same passage differently by considering the contents of rest of the book as well as its historical context. You couldn't come out and preach your interpretation to your flock. Openly disputing Voldemort's interpretation would have gotten you burnt at the stake as a heretic. However, you realized that you could teach your flock the rest of Salazar's teachings to help them make up their own minds. Pansy learned loyalty to Slytherin House. Millicent learned to side with winners. Blaise learned to do what was best for Blaise. These are all Salazar's teachings. They wouldn't have known of those if it weren't for you. Most of the school and most of the Wizarding World would still think that being a Slytherin meant nothing more than being a follower of Voldemort if it weren't for you, sir."

"In your sunny assessment of my importance you are conveniently ignoring that Professor Sinestra and twice ex-Head of House Slughorn both Slytherins also fought for the Light."

"Yes sir, but you were the Head of Slytherin House for the first six of our years here. Professor Sinestra never held your influence. Most of the Slytherins don't respect her. She treats Hufflepuffs as well as she treats any of them. Slughorn was terrified of even the smallest and weakest of Slytherins. He hated to be alone in the dungeon halls at night. Face it, sir. You were the only one preaching the doctrines of Salazar or anything else to Slytherin House."

"Out of all the Slytherin seventh years only three fought for the Light. Three became Death Eaters. The one I had the most personal contact with murdered your parents to prove his worth to his father's master."

"The rest of your seventh years chose not to fight, sir. They realized they could side with the winners no matter who won. That sounds like a Slytherin value to me. Either way, the majority of your seventh years survived this war outside of Azkaban. Two who died and one who lived are honored by the Wizarding World. I doubt Dumbledore himself would have predicted such a positive outcome even as optimistic as he was."

"I do believe your optimism might rival Dumbledore's. However, you are still young. It is hard to imagine that he ever had youth as an excuse. I have decided to take you up on your suggestion. Tonight, I am allowing myself to dream for the first time in over twenty years. If they haul me off to St. Mungo's tomorrow I would appreciate your notifying someone of the cause of my maladies. It is nine o'clock, Miss Granger."

"So soon? When should I return sir?"

"Since tomorrow is Saturday I shall leave that decision to you."

"Are you busy tomorrow evening?"

"Providing my dream experiment goes well I was hoping I might terrorize the House Elves to earn back my title as Most Horrible Castle Resident. I could be persuaded to change my plans."

"I'll see you at eight then. Goodnight Professor Snape. Good luck with your experiment."

"Goodnight, Miss Granger."


	4. Wisdom of What is Written

Many thanks to Shdwcat27, (Thank you for C2 listing too) duj, Stormy1989, JustJeanette, toostupidforyou, CareBearErin, and Somigliana for reviewing chapter three. You are all far too kind. Please accept this as my latest love offering. It is dedicated to you my reviewers.

A big box of Honeydukes to duj for helping weed out some amazingly lame dialogue from this chapter. That said all the lame dialogue remaining is in no way duj's fault. duj- I hope that bit got better. If not, I promise to keep trying. Please let me know what you think.

If anyone comes across a line in desperate need of improvement I'll love you forever for letting me know and will do my best to fix it. Such con-crit is appreciated more than I can say.

My skin is thick as Crabbe and Goyle put together. All comments, corrections, and criticisms welcome- yes even flames!

Discovering the Hidden Heart

Part Four

Wisdom of What is Written

He walked out of the endless desert out of the blazing heat into the cool shade and dark incense of a long gallery. He strode past lotus columns, sacred wall writings, and tiled pools afloat with rose petals into her ornate chamber. She was there clothed only with necklace and bracelets and reclining on brightly dyed pillows. As he approached she opened her kohl lined eyes framed by the green iridescence of crushed beetle carapace. Her hair was tamed into a thousand beaded braids. Her body was dusted with gold. Intricate designs in henna graced her hands and feet. She drew her knees up and spread them wide in welcome for him. As he drew near and reached a hand out to touch her shimmering skin she pressed her foot against his chest to stop him.

"Teach me the origin spell first, my Pharaoh," she said with her most seductive smile while caressing his chest with her toes.

"I do not know it yet."

She frowned, pushed him away, and unrolled papyrus to read instead. Snape woke in need of a very cold shower.

Hermione badly wanted to sleep late that morning. Crookshanks had other plans. He kneaded, mewed, and pawed at the tangles in her hair, making a sufficient pest of himself to let Hermoine know in no uncertain terms that he didn't give a rat's tail whether it was a Saturday or Bast's birthday.

Finally, Hermione fished under her pillow found and flicked her wand lazily in the direction of his food dish to pour out some Knutley's Kneazle Pleasing Gastronomic Delight. Crookshanks thanked her by crunching as loudly as possible and scraping his metal bowl around the stone floor as he ate. Just when Hermione had given up on the idea of sleep all together and dragged herself out of bed Crookshanks hopped onto her warm pillow ready to take his after-breakfast nap.

"You do that on purpose!"

Crookshanks did not bother to deny it.

Hermione spent the next two hours showering, untangling, drying, and smoothing her hair with magic fantasizing once again that she could manage to look exotic or sporty and not a bit like a House Elf with all her hair shaved off.

She ate oatmeal with yogurt, raisins, and honey leisurely in the Great Hall hiding from anyone who might try to talk with her behind her well worn copy of A Brief History of Time, a book she was reasonably sure she could recite by heart if her life or grades depended on it. She really needed something new to read.

After she had eaten Hermione wrapped some choice bits of kipper in her napkin and took them up to the Owlery for Hedwig who looked just about like Hermione felt. After Hedwig finished her treat Hermione performed a cleaning spell on her hands then ran her fingers through Hedwig's feathers.

"I miss him too, Hedwig."

Hedwig blinked in agreement and fluttered her wings a bit.

"Sorry, I don't have a letter. Thanks anyway."

Hedwig tucked her head under her wing and turned her back to Hermione.

"I thought Crookshanks was a drama queen."

Hermione took out parchment and a quill and wrote,

_To whom it may concern at Flourish and Blotts,_

_I wish to purchase a book about the practices of Occlumency and Legilimency with a section regarding long-term effects on practitioners. I would appreciate if you could provide a list of suggested titles._

_I would also like to purchase a copy of Morraca Allhallow's History of Solstice and Equinox, the cost of which is to be debited from my F and B prepaid store credit. If the book is not currently available for delivery please advise on length of wait._

_Thank you for your time,_

_Hermione Granger, student, Hogwarts_

Hermione held it out to Hedwig who was looking eager for the chance to be useful again.

"Will you deliver this to Flourish and Blotts for me?"

Hedwig prruped and chitted happily before accepting her missive.

"They might want you to wait for a reply even."

She watched as Hedwig circled the tower before heading off to deliver her order to the bookstore.

Hermione was back in her room studying quite pointlessly for her N.E.W.T.s when Hedwig tapped on her window. She took the reply and offered her a handful of Knutley's Kneazle Pleasing Gastronomic Delight only to suffer baleful glares from both Hedwig and Crookshanks.

"It's all I have!" she said to Hedwig. Then she told Crookshanks, "You are fat enough to share!" Both seemed terribly unimpressed with her arguments. She scratched Hedwig behind her ears a while and sent her back to the Owlery.

Hermione broke the Flourish and Blotts seal and read,

_Dear Miss Hermione Granger,_

_We here at Flourish and Blotts regret to inform you that no book in publication satisfies your first request. While we do have several fine works regarding the subjects of Occlumency and Legilimency none discuss long-term effects on practitioners. Perhaps practitioners do not practice these arts in the long-term? Perhaps there are no effects?_

_For a good overview on the subjects I suggest, Hidden Heart by Pascal Fleegle._

_Though we do not have a copy of Allhallow's history in stock you may expect delivery as soon as possible. Your store account will be magically debited upon its delivery._

_Thank you for your patronage._

_Sincerely, _

_Ellsmere Flourish_

Hermione frowned. She had read Fleegle's book when Harry was taking Occlumency lessons from Snape. She thought the book was worse than useless not to mention very badly written. Most of it sounded like the 'open your mind' tripe Trelawney loved. Plus, the man's long lurid descriptions of what went on in witches' minds had made her want to vomit. She seriously wondered whether Fleegle had ever met a woman. She would have to ask Snape for a recommendation.

Gods! It wasn't even ten a.m. yet! She realized that she was finding it harder and harder to fill time until their meetings. She needed a project.

Suddenly an idea hit her. Hermione dug out parchment and a dated letter that Viktor Krum had sent her fifth year. The original letter wouldn't work as a sample for her purposes since it was also a dateable object. She carefully copied several paragraphs of Viktor's letter onto parchment and filed the letter away again. Hermione wrote out several different possible spells combining the dating of objects spell and the translation of phrases spell. How hard could this be considering both of the parent spells require the same wand movement?

By the time dinner rolled around Hermione realized that she had skipped lunch. She was hungry, completely frustrated, and sore from all her hours swishing and flicking. Why had she thought this would be so easy? Sometimes she amazed herself with her own over-educated brand of idiocy. Perhaps she had hit on the right combination of words but was using the wrong wand movement all along. Really, there was no reason to assume the third spell would require the same wand movement as the other two. It would have been nice and logical though. She certainly knew by now how often magic and logic seemed to diverge. Hermione thought about all the possible wand movements and word combinations and realized how involved her task was. Perhaps she could find a way to narrow down the possibilities somehow or at least discover a way to figure out which possibilities were more likely and try those first. She decided the problem would have to wait until after dinner, her meeting, and for the soreness in her hand, wrist and shoulder to diminish.

She took her usual place at the Gryffindor Table and glanced over to the Head Table. The second her eyes settled on him, Snape looked up. He stared. Hermione stared back. He narrowed his eyes. She did the same. He glared. She glared back. When he sneered that patented Uber-Slytherin Snape sneer, she lost it. She hid her grin with her napkin, then turned her attention back to the food. She avoided looking at him the rest of the meal, and left the Great Hall without so much as a glance in his direction.

She was pretty much just standing there in the hallway, trying to figure out how to kill the time before her meeting with Snape when she heard Snape's voice behind her.

"Are you busy, Miss Granger?"

Do I look busy, genius? "Not at all, sir."

"Come with me. I wish to show you something."

Hermione actually had to run most of the way to his office, just to keep up with him. Yet when he got there, he held the door open for her, a completely unnecessary gesture. Snape, she realized was both shockingly rude and theatrically polite. He seemed to have no sense of moderation when it came to manners.

"Do come in," he said looking downright annoyed, as she bent clutching her sides trying to catch her breath.

She entered and turned to ask what he wanted to show her only to find he was already on the other side of the room. Hermione joined him by the desk. On it was many feet of rolled up parchment.

"This," Snape said indicating the parchment with his wand, "is a Veri-Quill copy of a monograph on poison ivy and its potions properties that I authored twelve years ago. This copy was made last year. Observe."

Snape uttered words she had said herself only hours ago and made a swish swish flick movement in a pattern that she did not know. She watched as a thin strand of blue smoke wound its way out of the wand-tip and formed the number twelve to hang there in the air over the parchment a moment before it drifted away into nothingness.

"You did it!"

"It was your idea."

"I would have given up! I've never seen that wand movement before!"

"It is rare. One spell which uses it indicates the father of a particular child. It is a well known spell among Slytherins which is hardly surprising given our history and our number of Pureblood fanatics paranoid about such things as paternity."

"How long did it take you to figure this out?"

"Perhaps half an hour. I ran through several likely word combinations with the same wand movements required by the first two spells. Then I decided to try wand movements of other origin spells. This was the second other wand movement I tried. I did not expect it to work."

"Did it rule out Slytherin as the originator of the good intention saying?"

"I have not run that test. I thought you might like to do it. Since this was your idea the thrill of discovery should be yours."

"I think we should do this together."

"All right. I'll write it out. You practice the wand movement. When you are ready we will both cast the spell."

Snape disappeared the monograph back presumably to wherever he kept it. He wrote out the line on fresh parchment then stepped away from the desk.

"That is adequate," he said indicating her wand movement. "Are you ready?"

"Yes. I'll count. Instead of three we both cast. One, two-"

"Annum originis revelo!"

Hermione watched as blue smoke curled from both their wands and formed the number 996.

"Well within Salazar Slytherin's lifetime," said Snape.

"But before he met Hufflepuff, at least as far as we know. It's possible he was quoting himself and did say the same line to Helga though years after he wrote it."

"It seems anything is possible, Miss Granger."

"Sir, you have to publish this. That spell could have many potential applications and benefits."

"I have to? This is not my field, Miss Granger. This was not even my idea. I believe that you should publish and thank me for my contributions to your project somewhere in the small print."

"Your contributions? You did the work! You figured it out, Professor! All I contributed to the success of -your- project was a useful theory one I spent about eight hours testing for myself today without result unless I count joint soreness. You can thank me in your small print."

"Too lazy to write the paper, Miss Granger?"

"Are you too lazy to write the paper, sir?"

"Perhaps we should write two papers and combine the best of both just as we combined the spells. We could publish together. Does that arrangement suit your Gryffindor sense of fair-play?"

"Perfectly, but your name comes first and we specify in the paper what each of us contributed to the project."

"I agree to your terms. Would you care for a cup of tea?"

"If you are having one I'd love a cup. I was wondering if you could recommend a book, sir. I didn't think much of the recommendation that I got from Flourish and Blotts."

"What sort of a book are you hunting?"

Hermione sat down, and took the cup he handed her. He sat and levitated his own cup to him.

"A book on Occlumency and Legilimency. I've read the few in the library and the Fleegle book that Mr. Flourish recommended. I thought it was a load of rubbish."

"Fleegle is Flourish's nephew. He is not an Occlumens nor a Legilimens nor much of a writer for that matter. Curious that he chose to write a book on Occlumency and Legilimency. Is it not?"

"Very, but that explains both the horrid book and the recommendation."

"It does not explain the man's fixation on the more prurient aspects of the practices."

"I am relieved he's not a Legilimens."

"I suspect you are not alone. You read -all- of those books for Mr. Potter?"

"He didn't ask me to read them!"

"I was not implying that, merely that he was lucky to be your friend."

"I apologize, Professor. Defending Harry was a habit."

"It would seem it is one still. Concerning your question, there is a dearth of good books available. I have most of the better ones. You may browse my library before you leave and borrow what you like."

"I'll take very good care of any book I borrow, sir."

"I would not offer if I thought otherwise, Miss Granger. Tell me, is your interest purely academic or were you planning on learning the practices?"

"I suppose I had only planned to read about the disciplines, sir, but if you are offering a practical lesson I certainly won't turn it down."

"You'll have to request a lesson from the Headmistress. I have no doubt in your ability to convince her to indulge you given that for you learning is even better than sunbathing by the lake while you should be in class."

"I believe you may have just framed part of my argument, sir."

"Astute of you to realize that you will receive an argument."

"Thank you for asking me to come early sir. I had no idea how to pass the time. I seem to struggling to find anything to do lately."

"I thought you would be studying for your N.E.W.T.s?"

"I'm ready for N.E.W.T.s. I wish they were tomorrow. At least then I'd have something to do tomorrow. There is the paper now of course. I almost want to put off writing that so that I can enjoy the feeling of being busy. Does that make any sense?"

"If you are so bored you may assist me with potions for the infirmary for that is what I will be doing tomorrow. I would much prefer not to spend my whole day doing it."

"I'd love to! What time?"

Snape actually looked concerned.

"There are still books in the library last time I checked."

"I've read them all, sir. All the good ones I've read more than once."

"I shall write you a pass to the Restricted Section."

"I've read all those too, sir."

"All of them? How could you have?"

"Harry used to let me borrow his Invisibility Cloak."

"I see. As I said, you are welcome to borrow books from me. Have you tried the Room of Requirement?"

"No! I hadn't thought of that! I still would like to assist you tomorrow with the infirmary potions. May I?"

"Of course."

"What time should I be there?"

"I expect to be there all day. When I see you I will put you to work."

"I want to talk to McGonagall after breakfast. I'll meet you after."

"Very well. Let me show you to my library."

Snape lead her to a solid stone wall behind his desk.

"It is a Disillusionment Charm. Just walk straight ahead."

She did and gasped. The room was ceiling to floor with stacks. She walked around perusing the sections. She found many books on Potions, Dark Arts, Occlumency and Legilimency. There were also many fine texts covering all major branches of magic, and most of the minor ones, too. Books abounded on all things magical including creatures, places, objects and languages. She found Wizarding histories, biographies, diaries, and cookbooks. In the literature section, Wizards' and Muggles' works sat side by side as did ancient tomes and paperbacks.

"I haven't seen one here that's in the library!"

"Why would I own one I can read in the library? Accio Clavenfoot's Studies in Occlumency."

A large leather bound book levitated off a top shelf and into Snape's hand.

"I would recommend this since you have already read more basic texts on the subject. Clavenfoot was purported to be one of the finest Occlumens of all time. He was a natural Occlumens as I am a natural Legilimens. He taught Dumbledore both disciplines. Dumbledore taught me the basics of Occlumency."

"I don't understand what that means precisely- a natural Legilimens. I always thought it just meant that learning it was easy for you. It means something else though, doesn't it?"

"I was a born Legilimens, Miss Granger. I had no control. I knew as soon as I became aware exactly what people around me thought and felt. I knew for example that my parents both feared me but for different reasons. I knew adults found me to be an ugly and strange child. I knew other children despised and plotted against me. Think of Legilimency as having an on and off switch like a Muggle table lamp. I was born with the switch on. I never knew what my condition was or that there was a switch until I came to school here at Hogwarts when Dumbledore recognized my Legilimency and was kind enough to show me how to turn it off. That is what being a natural Legilimens entails. I imagine being a natural Occlumens is not as- unpleasant."

Hermione couldn't imagine how hellish it would be for a little boy to be constantly surrounded, inundated by other people memories. As adults we may sense what other people think of us. Snape had never had the opportunity to be innocent or blissful. He never even had the chance to ignore the hard cold feelings or pretend he was mistaken. She wanted to say something comforting but did not think Snape would react well to anything he perceived as pity. Instead she said,

"How would someone even realize if he were a natural Occlumens?"

Snape seemed relieved. Perhaps he was dreading some emotional response to his condition. She wondered if he thought the talent, for that is what it was, made him monstrous somehow. She was sure others had treated him that way.

"He could run across someone like me."

Hermione smiled. She knew a lame joke of emotional retreat when she heard one. What surprised her was that Snape returned her smile. It was small and shy. He didn't show any teeth. It was barely there as smiles go. But there it was all the same and was transforming. He looked more open, less careworn, and so much more vulnerable. Hermione held up the book he had lent her.

"You just don't want to spoil the ending for me."

"Come. I'll walk you out."

The Disillusionment Spell worked both ways. She passed through the wall before Snape who followed right after her.

"I meant to ask you about your dream experiment. How did it go?"

"I noticed no ill effects. I woke with vague recollections of dreaming and a burning desire to create a new spell. Apparently your Muggle artists were correct."

"Thank you for tea, Professor, and for the book. Congratulations on your new detection spell."

"Congratulations on your workable theory. You do know that only aurors call them detection spells?"

"I know. Just think of all the plagiarists who are about to be detected, though."

"I'd worry if I were Pascal Fleegle."

"Sir, if you were Pascal Fleegle I'd be the one who was worried."

"I will see you tomorrow, Miss Granger."

"Goodnight, Professor."


	5. Days of Futures Past

Thank you to all my lovely reviewers shdwcat27, duj (thanks again for the dialogue help!), Power Punk (thanks for both reviews and for reading my stuff since the beginning. How could I not love you?), gal-from-the-'hood, Just Jeanette, CareBearErin, and toostupidforyou. I write for you!

Thanks to Bene Gesserit Witch for the correction in this chappie! Thanks to duj for helping me see reason in relating the horrors of Harry's childhood despite all the Dickens I've been reading! Thank you also to Emmie for the spelling help! 

This chapter is for all of you.

Discovering the Hidden Heart

Part Five

Days of Futures Past

The next morning, after breakfast Hermione went to McGonagall's office to ask permission to take a lesson with Snape. Hermione tried to ignore the fact that Minerva had changed her hair color to radiation leak yellow. At least she was back to her dignified tartan robes for the time being.

"Good morning, dear! Will you have tea and a short-bread with me?"

"No thank you, Headmistress. I'm still stuffed from breakfast."

"You're old enough to call me Minerva, Hermione. Even if you weren't you've earned that right. Here now, just what pressing matters bring you to my office bright and early on a Sunday morning?

"Just academic enthusiasm- I have become interested in Occlumency and Legilimency. I've read all the books on those subjects in the library. I'd love the chance to explore the disciplines further before I leave Hogwarts. I'd like permission to request a practical lesson from Professor Snape."

"Oh dear. Do you think that would be terribly wise, Hermione?"

"Why yes, which is why I'm asking, Minerva."

"Wise or otherwise, I certainly wouldn't want that man poking around in my head," Minerva mumbled half to herself, shuffling papers around on the desk.

"I'm not ashamed of anything I have in my head," the second Hermione said it she realized what a jolly old fat lie she had just told. It put Father Christmas to shame. Strangely enough, she'd much prefer if Snape watched all of it than to let Minerva McGonagall take the briefest peek.

"No of course you're not, dear. I understand your curiosity given that Mr. Potter had to take those lessons. Do not forget that he never enjoyed them. Unlike Harry Potter there is no reason for you to have to learn those skills. I really think it better if you don't."

McGonagall always did have to play devil's advocate. A good thing too considering how many little devils got sorted into Gryffindor each year. Well two can play at that game.

"Perhaps you are right, Minerva. Are you saying that I shouldn't -trust- Professor Snape to give me a lesson?"

"Oh stars no! Professor Snape is a good man. No, that's not what I'm saying at all. The lessons themselves cause the worry not the teacher, dear."

"But you said that you wouldn't want him in your head. What's to stop him really? He is a Legilimens. Are you sure that Professor Snape is trustworthy, Minerva? Before switching sides he was in league with Death Eaters."

"Miss Granger! I am most disappointed in you. You well know that Professor Snape sacrificed much for the Light. What ever you think you know about what he did during those years you don't know the half of it. I will not have you thinking badly of one of Hogwarts finest teachers. I trust him. Albus Dumbledore trusted him. He has proved himself worthy of all our trust time and time again. I believe that you -will- have that lesson providing Professor Snape has the time to instruct you."

"But-"

"No buts! I will speak to Professor Snape and see when he can work you into his schedule. That is my final word on this subject. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Headmistress."

Now, do you have other topics you'd like to discuss?"

"No, Headmistress."

"Then you are dismissed, Miss Granger."

The portrait of Phineas Nigellus cleared his throat and said,

"You handled that well."

He chuckled when both Minerva and Hermione thanked him.

Hermione hurried down to the dungeons. She found Snape in the middle of a circle of seven large cauldrons of different potions in various stages of completion. Snape was stirring one by hand and four others by wandless magic. For the life of her she could not imagine the wreck she or the potions would be should she attempt more than two such complicated potions at once. Snape seemed deep in concentration. In fact he looked oddly calm as if in a trance state. One of the potions, a Blood-Replenishing Potion, had received its last stir widdershins. She handed him the pre-measured jasper powder before he could ask for it.

"Thank you, Miss Granger. I have these in hand. I require a large cauldron of Pepperup Potion. Begin."

Hermione retrieved the necessary tools and supplies, prepared her work area and her ingredients, brought her cauldron the the correct temperature, added her base ingredients, and then lowered the temperature to simmer. Occasionally as she worked she glanced over to watch Snape's progress. Now he was stirring all seven and summoning ingredients with wandless magic while adding ingredients with both hands. By the time she was done decanting, sealing, and labeling the Pepperup Potion, Snape had started two more cauldrons.

"Finished, sir."

"Excellent. In a moment you may bottle and stopper the Everlasting Elixir and Blood-Replenishing Potion."

"Professor, how could Madame Pomfrey have run out of Everlasting Elixir?"

"She does so at an alarming rate everytime a student knocks the open bottle to the floor. I have emplored her to keep the bottle stoppered to no avail. This time I have spelled all the bottles unbreakable and self-stoppering after use."

As he promised Snape kept her busy. By two in the afternoon they had finished preparing potions. Hermione wanted to sit down in the worst way but realized they still needed to clean up. Well, at least she had to clean up. She wasn't entirely sure whether Snape intended to help or not. She grabbed the nearest cauldron and took it to the cleaning station.

"Miss Granger, this is not a detention."

"What do you mean sir?"

"Use magic."

"Oh!" Snape demanded the scrubbing of cauldrons by hand whether for class or in detention. The sheer length of time and effort had made this experience seem a lot more like detention. Why had she wanted to do to this? Just as a favor to Snape she decided. She realized she was starting to think of him as her friend. She wondered if he possibly could think of her as one of his, even though she was his student and quite possibly insane. It didn't help that she could hear Ron in here head saying, 'Course you're a blinking nutter, Hermione! You want to be friends with Snape! Blimey, somebody floo call St. Mungo's before it's catching.'

"We missed lunch, Miss Granger. I shall summon food to my office. What that is not red would you care to eat to keep you until dinner?"

"Anything you're having and some tea, please sir."

"If you finish here I will deliver these to the infirmary and meet you in my office. I set the wards to accept you."

With crates of potions levitating in his wake Snape left. Using magic there was little effort involved in putting the lab back to its pristine state. Hermione noticed that Snape hadn't locked the supply cabinet. She warded it setting her ward to accept Snape and then warded the door the same way on her way out. When she arrived at Snape's office she was able to enter. She plopped down gratefully into what she had come to think of as 'her' chair. The table she had transfigured still stood between the chairs which were angled to face half way between each other and the fire.

She eyed the fireplace. She would have liked a fire but couldn't imagine Snape would want one after standing in the middle of a circle of boiling cauldrons while wearing wool. Then again, he did that on a regular basis and had a fire every time she had been here. Perhaps he knew the same cold that had settled inside of her. She flicked her wand. The fire flared.

Snape entered not long after.

"I hope you don't mind a fire, sir."

"Not at all. I prefer one."

"I warded the supply cabinet and the door before I left and set the wards to accept you, sir."

"I saw. I appreciate your thoroughness. Assorted sandwiches with your tea?"

"Sounds brilliant, Professor."

Snape summoned a House Elf. The one who had apparently drawn the short straw looked in danger of passing out but managed to stay on her feet while Snape gave his orders. Though the House Elf never returned the tea and sandwiches materialized on the table between them. Cheese, cucumber, cress, and curried cashew chicken were the sandwiches of the day.

"I spoke to McGonagall. I got her to agree to the lesson."

"I heard."

"How?"

"Phineas Nigellus told me. I have a portrait of his guarding a private supply room. He also informs me that Minerva's new hair color is hideous."

"Oh."

"He told me how you accomplished the feat. Your tactics were worthy of a Slytherin."

"I'm sorry, sir!"

"Miss Granger, coming from me that is a compliment. Even Phineas was favorably impressed."

"I regret what I said about you. I don't feel badly about manipulating Minerva, though."

"Why is that?"

"I'm an adult. If I want to take an Occlumency lesson she has no business stopping me."

"I agree. I meant why should you regret mentioning that I was a Death Eater?"

"It wasn't just that. I implied that you couldn't be trusted just to get what I wanted. It was most disloyal. You should be angry with me."

"You owe me no loyalty, Miss Granger."

"Of course I do! Forget how much you've taught me. Forget your war effort and the fact you save my life just over a fortnight ago. You stood between me and a werewolf that already tried to kill you once. You saved my best friend's life when Quirrell shared his skull with Voldemort. You rushed to our aid when you thought we were all being murdered by an escaped killer. Professor, without you half the seventh years myself included would have died a hundred times over in poor Neville's potions disasters.

"Because of me Ronald Weasley is dead."

"You didn't push him in front of that Avada Kedavra. Don't you dare belittle his sacrifice by taking credit for it."

Snape looked utterly defeated then. It was frightening. So much so she rose and walked over to him. She rested her hand gently on his shoulder. She thought at first that he would slap it away. He simply covered her hand with his.

"You can't save everyone all the time, Professor."

"I would have died in his place."

"I know. Me too."

Snape removed his hand then. Hermione did the same, and picked up another cucumber sandwich that she really didn't want to take back to her chair.

"You are a most loyal person, Miss Granger. I think your friends would agree with me. Do not think that I do not know how staunchly you have defended me to your class-mates over the years."

"Do you know why so many students dislike you, sir?"

"Yes. I have heard their colorful complaints."

"I doubt you've ever heard the whole truth. No one else makes them think a tenth as hard as you do. Thinking hurts when you are not used to it. You've seen the absolute trash parchments they hand in to you. The sad part is that students put more time, effort and quality into your essays than those for any other class. You should see the drivel that gets top marks in Charms or Herbology. Every other professor will give a passing grade if a student manages to hand in something on time with a name on it."

"That is most unfair to you."

"It isn't fair to you! It isn't fair to those professors who have to read that codswallop or to those students who don't learn anything by writing it. I wonder why they bother to come here at all. There are some really nice Wizarding Resorts that cost less per year than books, tuition, and supplies for this school. Why don't they go there if all they want to do is socialize and laze about all day?"

"I doubt most of them could convince their parents to pay for a resort. Perhaps a few Slytherins could. By the first week of first year, I know which student in the class will be you. I know which will be as well meaning and hopeless as Longbottom. I know which will be Crabbe, which will be Brown, which will be Harry Potter."

"What does that mean?"

"Which name has you confused?"

"Harry."

"One who is bright and talented enough but lacks the focus. I do not believe I have ever encountered a less organized, less disciplined mind."

"I think it was because no one taught him anything when he was little. They locked him up like an animal. They didn't touch him or talk to him. He was in the dark a lot of the time with no stimulation of any sort, no patterning. When Harry started Muggle school he didn't know his colors, numbers or alphabet. He could barely speak! His cousin was in the same year and told everyone Harry was a retarded freak. He was one by that time. That's what his Aunt and Uncle made him. His cousin would beat the other children if they so much as said hello to Harry. He never had friends. No one ever treated Harry like he was normal. No one told him the truth about his parents either. He went from thinking he was mentally handicapped and a Muggle to being the Boy-Who-Lived over night. I think he adjusted pretty well considering."

"What do you mean by locked up like an animal?"

"He lived in a closet."

"I saw that closet during his Occlumency lessons. I assumed they locked him there for punishment."

"They did. They punished him there non-stop for eleven years, Professor. Harry didn't get proper meals. He got table scraps, bones to suck, plates to lick, bits of gristle his cousin had chewed, and food that was mouldy or had gone past date. Most Muggles look after dogs better than his family looked after Harry. When he was really lucky he got leftovers they didn't have room to keep. Sometimes they punished him by starving him. Sometimes they just couldn't be bothered to feed him. He was always passing out because they worked him so hard on so little food. They stunted his growth physically, mentally and emotionally. I think there were other things, abuse Harry wouldn't talk about, things he was ashamed of letting happen to him."

"I am grateful that no one informed me of this until now."

"Because you would have had to treat him just the same anyway."

"Yes."

"Harry understood that in the end after you returned with Dumbledore. He was a very forgiving person. I think he had been looking for some excuse to forgive you anyway, especially since he couldn't find you to kill you. He didn't hate the Muggles. Well, he hated living with them but never wanted them harmed. He thought he hated Sirius for betraying his parents. He still listened to him at the Shrieking Shack. I do think he hated Voldemort even though in some ways he pitied him. What were Harry's parents like?"

"His father was a handsome ape. His mother was in every way extraordinary. She was much like you, Miss Granger."

"You really disliked the Marauders didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Don't you think you are being a little hard calling him a handsome ape?"

"Perhaps that comparison is unfair to apes. Allow me to rephrase. He was a less scholarly, more athletic, more courageous version of Draco Malfoy. Like Draco, he was cruel, spoiled, arrogant, thoughtless, and selfish. Unlike Black, James Potter would never have killed simply because he disliked someone, well, not on purpose."

"What did Lily ever see in him?"

"He loved her and worshipped her. He wanted to become a better person because of her."

"Which of the Marauders did you like the best?"

"Black."

"You're joking!"

"No."

"Why?"

"He was the only one I respected. He was intelligent, eloquent, quick-witted, well read, self-determined, courageous, under-handed, and a dirty fighter. He had a peculiar sense of honor that had nothing to do with the law, his own personal code if you will. That was unbending for him. He never quit. He was a formidable adversary. He was also, petty, arrogant, endlessly baiting, rude, childish, and tried to murder me with a werewolf."

"You could be describing yourself, Professor, except for the 'tried to murder you' part."

"Is that how you see me?"

"No, but most of it fits with your reputation. Some of it like the self-determined part I agree with because I know you better than I did."

"I will admit that we were alike in some ways. Though life, warfare, money, education, society, women- everything was a game to Black. I was far more serious by nature and necessity."

"More Sirius than Sirius?"

"More Black too."

"Tell me about Remus."

"He was studious, quiet, meek, gullible, unreliable, self-pitying, indecisive, and harmless when not a werewolf. His loyalty toward Black and Potter was canine. He was desperate for their attention, too eager to please, too passive, and too forgiving.

"Can anyone be too forgiving?"

"When forgiveness endangers one's own life or the lives of others it is no longer a virtue."

"Peter Pettigrew?"

"You did meet him."

"Yes, but what was he like when he was young?"

"That was my point. He was exactly the same though not quite as scabby."

"Why would the other three put up with him?"

"I always assumed that he made them feel superior. Black needed a flunky. Potter needed a fan club. Lupin needed to feel sorry for someone other than himself."

"Do you feel that any of them got better with age?"

"I think Potter would have had he lived. Lily had a profound influence on him. To impress Lily he discovered that he had a brain under all that muscle. He used it to realize that he had to work hard at things other than Quidditch if he hoped to be worthy of her."

"One might think that you and Lily could have gotten along."

"We did. She was my best friend."

"Harry said you called her a mudblood!"

"I did many times. She called me worse. We could not allow our friendship to be public knowledge. Neither of our Houses would have accepted it. She was a threat to my spying. I would have made her a target. In the end I did."

"Not on purpose."

"The result was the same."

"How in the world did you become friends?"

"We recognized each other early on as the best conversation to be had amongst our peers. We helped each other. She was a marvel at Charms, Transfiguration, and Muggle Studies of course. I excelled in Defense, Potions, and History of Magic."

"Slughorn said Lily was brilliant at Potions. That was you wasn't it?"

"Apart from helping each other outside of class, we traded Potions books. Mine was full of useful notes that I did not need. Hers was cover to cover with amusing doodles and Slughorn cartoons which helped to keep me from going mad with boredom learning day after day potions that I could have brewed in my sleep."

"What did Half-Blood Prince mean to you?"

"It was a stupid joke that Lily found endlessly hilarious. I told her she might get a date if she weren't so Muggle-brained. She said, 'Oh and you're a complete Prince, I suppose?' I told her I would be if I were more inbred. Thereafter Lily took to calling me by that hideous moniker. She was very easily amused. That or she just laughed at all my jokes to be kind. At any rate she wrote, 'This book is the property of the Half-Blood Prince' before she gave it back to me."

"Did you love her?"

"With Lily there were borders that I would not cross. It was difficult and dangerous just being friends."

"Did she know about your spying?"

"Perhaps she suspected. She knew me well. She was very bright, intuitive, and a keen observer. She said things occasionally in her teasing way that gave me cause to wonder."

"Like what?"

"Sometimes she would whisper things like 'Good luck, Double-O-Seven.' Of course it required a covert operation just for us to study together. Her conversation was full of such references to Muggle culture. Just as often she'd whisper Muggle nonsense like 'Later, Alligator,' or 'Take your protein pills and put your helmet on.' It did not worry me. I trusted her enough to tell her. I never did fearing her life would be endangered by the knowledge."

"I wish you could have told Harry about her."

"He was to receive a letter upon my death."

"You never expected to survive the war did you?"

"In the beginning I did. I was not suicidal. Had I truly believed spying would kill me, I never would have attempted it. After Voldemort's return surviving him seemed- improbable."

"I wasn't sure I had survived the battle."

"What do you mean?"

"I thought I might be a ghost. I didn't feel like me anymore. Did I kill Lucius Malfoy or just cave his skull in after he was dead?"

"Do you not remember?"

"I remember him casting an Avada Kedavra on Harry while his back was turned. The next thing I remember was you taking my rock away."

"You have read about the Norse berserkers?"

"Yes."

"Watching you reminded me of what I had read of them. You reacted instantaneously. I barely had time to raise my wand before you knocked Malfoy to the ground backward over the corpse of Peter Pettigrew proving once and for all that he was good for something. I am not sure when you picked up the rock. I do know that you managed to crack his scull with your first blow. I heard it shatter. You had delivered twenty blows or more by the time I managed to take that rock. I did not deprive you of it to upset you. However, had you used it fifty more times Malfoy still would be merely dead while you may have chipped a fingernail. My concern was for you."

"It doesn't bother me that I killed him."

"Nor should it. He would have tried to kill us both and Miss Lovegood too had he had the time. Are you still suffering joint pain?"

"Just a bit of stiffness."

"Do you require a potion?"

"No thank you, sir. What I really need is a hot bath."

"Miss Granger, you will inform me should this stiffness persist."

"Yes sir, I will."

"Do you exhibit any other symptoms of injury?"

"Nothing that's physical, Professor."

"You are certain?"

"Yes sir. Thank you for your concern and for letting me help today."

"I am grateful for your assistance. Would you care to take your lesson tommorrow or do you desire more time to prepare?"

"No sir. I'll be ready. May I come early?"

"I will see you after dinner."

"I look forward to it. Have a good evening, Professor."


	6. Promise of a Night to Remember

: ) This story is so much better than it should be all because of my reviewers.

I thank you for your varied kinds, your guiding minds,  
your giving hearts, and all your other body parts.

Thanks to KellyRoxton, duj (Thanks for your spot on reasoning) , Die Geschichtenerzaehlerin, Mari Skyrin-Sarker, Bene Gesserit Witch (Thanks for the keen eyed correction) , queenanneus, gal-from-the-'hood and CareBearErin (Great point! I just figured their handwriting expertise was somewhat suspect since no one recognized it as Snape's though they'd all seen plenty of his in red. Thanks for letting me slide.)

I write for you!

Discovering the Hidden Heart

Part Six

Promise of a Night to Remember

The next morning at breakfast, an Emperor owl flew to Hermione and dropped a cream and gold envelope with a Ministry seal. Looking around she noticed that several other seventh years, McGonagall, and the professors present were receiving similar Owls. 

She opened hers. It was an invitation for her and a guest to attend 'A Night to Remember' the Order of Merlin Awards Gala to be held this Saturday at seven with a dinner served. A stuffy Ministry affair with Rufus Fudge making endless speeches was the just about the last thing she needed. At least Snape would be there. Well, she sincerely hoped he would be. She stuck her invitation away in her book bag and returned to her toast and marmalade.

Combined House N.E.W.T. Level Double Potions was her first class of the day. She took her seat next to Zacharius Smith her usual partner since Harry died. Smith was decent at Potions and didn't irritate her in class as much as he did outside of class. Since Snape's return, Smith didn't speak in class unless absolutely necessary. She wondered what it must be like to effect people the way Snape did. He certainly seemed to enjoy it.

Snape swooped in right on time as usual. He tossed a book down on his desk with a bang and said,

"Clear all books and notes away."

Snape put up with a moment or two of shuffling then wandlessly slammed shut the books of students who were moving too slowly to suit him.

"This oral is worth fifty points. You will stand while answering. Miss Granger, name five potions discussed in your text requiring different parts of the Caddis fly. Specify which parts, how each is prepared, when it is added, and its purpose in each potion. While we are all aware that it can take you ten minutes to answer the simplest of questions do try your dismal best to be succinct."

Hermione stood, took a deep breath, and said,

"Maturation of Pus Potion requires the fore-wings of twelve dry Caddis flies to be ground to a fine powder and added upon the boil to balance the base. Male Fertility Elixir requires the abdomen of one fresh Caddis fly crushed added to balance the base just prior to first stirring. Trichromatic Magical Tattoo Ink requires three entire dried and crushed Caddis flies sprinkled in at the end when removed from heat to enhance the desired trichromatic effect. Kangaroo Legs Hopping Tonic requires a fresh chopped larvae of Caddis fly added as a stabilizer after the addition of the powdered ragweed seed. In-grown Toenail Potice requires the whole head of a single dry or fresh Caddis fly added after addition of holly leaves as a catalyst causing the holly leaves to react with the toad's blood. May I sit now sir?"

"Do. While the information you provided was correct and complete you seem unable or unwilling to follow my directions. I did ask you to list potions discussed in your Potions text, Miss Granger. Trichromatic Magical Tattoo Ink as you well know appears nowhere in the pages of your book. Perhaps the loss of ten points to your grade today and five points from Gryffindor will serve as a reminder when next you consider showing off in this class."

Hermione stood again.

"Sir, See In The Dark Syrup requires seven entire fresh sliced Caddis flies, added after the first color change to-"

"Too late. Sit. Detention tonight in my office at seven o'clock Miss Granger and ten more points from Gryffindor for wasting time in this class. Mr. Smith name five uses for different parts of hummingbird. Specify the part, how it is prepared, when added, and its purpose in each potion. Five house points if you can provide a sixth example not covered in your potions text which I highly doubt."

Zacharius Smith stood, took a deep breath, and said,

"Er, hummingbirds, sir?"

Despite losing ten points Hermione still got the highest grade on Snape's pop oral quiz. Nearly a third received no points at all when their minds blanked under the pressure of Snape's two ton glare. She lagged behind which was not hard to do as everyone else bolted the second that Snape dismissed them.

"Afraid I can't make my class tonight, sir. It seems I have a detention to serve."

"You will have to find a way to combine the two, Miss Granger, as you are excused from neither. Have you successfully brewed Trichromatic Magical Tattoo Ink?"

"No sir, I've never tried to brew it."

"Should you ever find the need I suggest you do not attempt it in the vicinity of Mr. Longbottom. It is permanent on contact."

"Will you be going the Ministry ceremony on Saturday?"

"Unfortunately yes, the Headmistress informs me that staff attendance is not optional."

She hadn't meant it. Well, she did mean it. She just hadn't planned on asking.

"Would you escort me, sir?" just slipped out when her mouth was open.

Snape could not hide his surprise. Then his brow creased slightly. Hermione realized that she had just asked Snape on -a date- of sorts. Worse still, he looked disinclined to accept her invitation. He had not turned her down yet however.

"I don't want to go alone. Well, I don't want to go at all really. I feel like I should go though. I thought that if we went together at least we'd have someone to talk to at dinner, sir."

Hermione shifted her weight from one leg to the other. She painfully swallowed what seemed to be an under-abundance of saliva in her mouth. She clutched the strap of her book bag more tightly until she could feel her nails pushing into her palm. She wished he would just say something. Hearing, 'No you stupid girl! How could I show my face at the Ministry with an insufferable frizzy haired know-it-all twit like you in tow?' would be somewhat preferable to enduring more of this unbearable silence with him just staring at her like that. Gods! He was going to say nothing at all forever. Then he was going to say no!

"Miss Granger, to many I will always be a Death Eater. Are you certain that you wish to be seen in my company?"

"Anyone who still believes you are a Death Eater is either dim-witted or unbelievably ignorant, sir."

"You have just accounted for the vast majority of the Wizarding World."

"Regardless of what the majority may think, I 'd be proud to be seen with you."

"You do realize the press will be there and will doubtlessly make something of it if we go together."

"I don't really give a f- uh-"

"A Fudge?"

"Yes sir, one of them. I don't give a Fudge what the press makes of anything least of all of me."

"I am your Potions professor."

"As it breaks no rule of Hogwarts in regard to student/staff conduct, I'd be grateful for the company of my Potions professor on Saturday at the Ministry, sir."

"Have you given thought to how your House will react? I am the Head of Slytherin and wildly unpopular with Gryffindors based solely on my own merits."

"The only two Gryffindors whose opinions mattered to me were Ron and Harry. Neither of them managed to stop me from being escorted by Viktor Krum, Pride of Durmstrang, even more of a stigma according to Gryffindor wisdom than being Head of Slytherin House, sir. To be fair, Quidditch probably helped in his case."

"Escorting you to the Ministry on Saturday will be my honor, Miss Granger."

"Thank you. It means a lot to me."

"You are late for your next class. I hope you do not expect me to write you an excuse."

"Of course not. We all know that it takes you ten minutes just to answer a simple question, sir. Clearly it's my fault for asking you one. See you after dinner!"

After classes, Hermione went back to her room, fed Crookshanks, and took a hot bath in her private bathtub which was in her opinion the best part of being Head Girl. The prefect's bathtub was far nicer but every time she had attempted to use it she had walked in on someone having sex. Well, what else was it for, really? She dried her hair and braided it and then reread parts of the Occlumency book Snape had lent her until it was time to head down to dinner and on to the dungeons.

When she got to his office door, she suddenly felt the mad urge to flee. She knocked anyway.

"Are you well? You look pale."

Hermione let out a breath she had been holding. Good Gods! Snape washed his hair!

"I half expected you to attack me as soon as you opened the door, sir. You-" -washed your hair! She was staring. She couldn't help it. She couldn't believe it! It was shiny and moved when he moved and was so horribly distracting. Why couldn't it just be hanging there all clumped together as usual? "-could have attacked me when I should have been least expecting it so I was expecting it, sir."

"Sorry to disappoint you. You were wise to be prepared."

"I don't know if I'll ever be prepared. I'm terribly nervous." She was too. It wasn't just the prospect of having the lesson either. It wasn't that she'd asked him on a date or that he'd accepted. She could have dealt with all that, because she was expecting it. His hair was so unexpectedly pretty! She would have to ignore that.

Ignoring Snape's hair was like trying to ignore a hippogriff plucking a dead ferret off of her. Somehow Minerva's new color had been a far less drastic change. Each individual hair moved independently to draw her eye. Each caught the light just to spite her. She found herself wondering if it felt as good as it looked. What might it feel like under her fingers, like silk, or like something alive? Would stroking Snape feel like petting a wild animal? Did she want to find out?

"Have you had second thoughts?"

"No sir, I want to do this. I do have some questions first." This was bad. She was going to attempt Occlumency when all she could seem to think about was running her fingers through Snape's hair! He'd had years! He just had to pick tonight to wash it?

"I will answer as best I can. Have a seat. Would you care for tea?"

"Perhaps later? After the lesson, sir? Oh, don't let me stop you from having one."

Maybe he'd washed it tonight -because- she'd asked him out. Could it be he was trying to impress her by looking nice just for her? If he were trying to impress her what did that mean exactly? Should she say something? Isn't complimenting someone's personal hygiene insulting no matter how you say it?

"Did you finish Clavenfoot's book?" Snape didn't so much as look at the teapot. His eyes were fixed firmly on her. She hoped he'd attribute the fact that her eyes were roving over his hair to her nervousness, which was all it was obviously.

"Yes sir. I'll bring it next time. I wanted to reread sections after my lesson. From everything I've read, I have concluded that every Occlumens finds a personal way of repelling attacks. Would you say that is an accurate assessment?"

"There are many ways to approach Occlumency if that is what you are suggesting. I clear my mind. Dumbledore lead his opponent on a merry chase through a maze of the nonsensical before tossing the Legilimens out. After a time or two of experiencing it I found that giving up the idea of looking in his head seemed the wisest option. Of course, that was the route he took with me when I was young. Another Legilimens might have been met by an alternate, less kindly defense. Voldemort flooded his mind with what Dumbledore described as 'poisonous mental sludge'. I never waded there personally. There was too great of a chance that he would have detected the intrusion and taken out the affront on my person. Another Occlumens of my past acquaintance built barriers. This is a useful tool but is not a technique to wholly rely upon. However, it might hold against a weak, beginning, or accidental Legilimens. Barriers can be used to test your opponent and give you a sense of whom you are up against. They can also be used as temporary obstacles to slow and exhaust your enemy."

"That was one of my ideas for keeping you out."

"Try it by all means. Employ all your ideas, Miss Granger. I will start with a very basic low level attack. I will warn you first before I start. In fact, I will wait until you indicate to me that you are ready to begin."

"That's sporting of you, sir."

"I can afford to be sporting as you say since you are not my enemy. You are here voluntarily. It does not matter to the future of the Wizarding World whether you ever learn these techniques or not. I do suggest that you try to learn something. These are very useful skills, Miss Granger. They have saved my life more times than I care to count. Additionally, Occlumens and Legilimens do not have to register with the Ministry."

"Why is that?"

"There are many reasons. First of all, Occlumency can be used only for self-defense. Legilimens are untraceable. While one might get a sense of whom is attacking there is no magical residue, no signature to identify. Proving that an attack even existed is difficult. Identifying the attacker beyond all doubt is impossible. The only excuse to register Legilimens would require the Ministry to enact a right to privacy statute which in turn would make illegal the forced registry of Legilimens, as well as Animagi, werewolves, and the like."

"Exceptions can be made to any law."

"True, which brings me to the most important reason: those in power do not wish to upset the delicate balance that keeps them there. At a completely practical level politicians do not want to alienate those who can access their secrets. Legilimency is knowledge, Miss Granger. Occlumency is the ability to preserve its power."

"Do a lot of Occlumens go into politics?"

"Throughout history this is the case."

"Don't tell me Rufus Fudge is an Occlumens!"

"Like his uncle before him, Fudge overtaxes his mental capacities when he talks and tries to seem sincere at the same time. Scrimgeour was an Occlumens, as was Crouch, though neither was particularly gifted."

"It was a shame about Scrimgeour. Do you know who poisoned him, sir?"

"I believe so. However, that is a conversation for another time."

"Sorry for getting off topic." At least she wasn't thinking about Snape's hair any more- oh bloody hell! "Harry insisted on calling Legilimency mind reading. It isn't the same is it?"

"Mind reading is a popular theoretic construct that does not as yet exist. Legilimency is more and less than that. Think of the mind as a pensieve. Everything stored in that pensieve exists in memories. Memories are constantly being made. Describing the unlikelihood of finding a particular memory or bit of information in that pensieve requires the needle and haystack analogy. However, every memory holds an inordinate amount of various kinds of information. Part of the art of Legilimency involves deciphering the meaningful from the seemingly useless. The more you practice and the more you know of your victim or should I say your subject the better the quality of the information gathered. A skilled Occlumens can show a Legilimens only particular memories he wants seen, even false memories. These are the techniques Dumbledore applied. I believe Voldemort did the same in creating his poisonous sludge. The perfect Occlumens creates a false memory so real you can touch and taste and feel it. Voldemort turned his defense into an attack on the senses. The perfect Legilimens will recognize a false memory no matter how skillfully created. He will also learn to protect his mind from defensive attacks. There are levels upon levels in both disciplines. Tonight I hope you will learn to defend successfully against a very basic attack and to attack an unresisting mind."

She was out of questions for the moment and intensely curious about what was going to happen.

"All right, sir. I'm as ready as I'll ever be."

A/N- Rufus Fudge nephew of Cornelius Fudge belongs to Rowling too. He was mentioned in an article published in the Daily Prophet, several issues of which were written by Rowling, printed, and distributed through the Official British Harry Potter Fan Club. According to the article, Rufus Fudge was recently hired in the Improper Use of Magic Department at the Ministry. I have elevated him to Minister, under the belief that his being related to a former Minister would help him to rise quickly and gain the office himself. Of course nothing like that would ever happen in Muggle politics! ; )


	7. A Mind's Eye View

_Mari Skyrin-Sarker- Thanks! I will I promise._

_duj- Yeah, just making it up as I go. Ms. Rowling will josh us all before she's through. Thank you!_

_KellyRoxton- Thank you! She's probably more ready than I am but here goes!_

_fuzzywuzzywuzza- Your name is fun to type! Thank you! I'll try not to disappoint._

_little beloved- I'm blushing! You are too kind for which I'm fabulously grateful. Thanks!_

_gal-from-the-'hood- Thanks! I think it happens like total eclipses and me balancing my checkbook, possibly less often._

_CareBearErin- Thanks! I like your theory! I always figured he couldn't be arsed. Who's the poor man had to impress- Bellatrix? Volde? I wouldn't waste the shampoo either!  
_

_Once again a deluge of my most humble gratitude for to my lovely reviewers for taking the time to let me know how I'm doing. If you are new to the story don't be shy! Say hi, correct me, criticize my mother's lack of sense for teaching me how to read and write, or flame me personally if you'd like! I promise I'll think you are the bee's knees regardless of what sort of a review I get._

Discovering the Hidden Heart

Part Seven

A Mind's Eye View

"Stand and face me as if we were dueling. Nod when you wish to begin."

She stood. Part of her mind took the time to remind her what a terrifying concept dueling Snape's mind should be. She was not afraid of him though he certainly looked every bit as menacing as his reputation, tall, dark, sinister, and eager to deal her a crushing defeat. For the first time, it struck her that Snape's persona was cultivated. He was like one of those Muggle actors rumored to live inside their creations. Snape was a character, a poster for the Dark Arts, a carefully calculated model of a Death Eater, and probably a parody of himself all rolled into one. She doubted if anyone even Dumbledore had ever known the real man underneath the layers of it all. She took a deep breath, reviewed her ideas for defending herself, and then nodded.

Around her mind she erected a stone fortress with no windows and no door. Its walls were so thick that it had no middle and so high that it had no top and no bottom. When Snape reduced her finely crafted citadel to a pile of dust that blew away on her psychic winds, he encountered metal plate. He pushed against it receiving a jolt of electricity. He melted the metal away to find himself inside a rustic cottage facing a doorway. Snape, the door, and most of the walls of the house exploded outward into a crazed garden filled with improbable flowers and a yellow brick road. He burned the image away like celluloid caught too long in a projector. To Hermione Snape felt like a hot knife cutting away at her defenses. He was so close to her and so ruthlessly relentless. It was only a matter of time before he was entirely in control. She knew she could not fight him but would not accept defeat. She retreated inward. She sensed him following in her darkness and made herself go deeper into her center until she was far away, until he did not exist at all.

Distantly she heard her name. She knew the danger had passed. There was sensation and a light. The light pulled her toward it as she opened her eyes. He held her against him cradled in one arm. He was patting her cheek softly saying 'Miss Granger' over and over. She was warm for the first time in weeks. The heat he was radiating made her want to wrap her arms around him and close her eyes again. She might have done so had he already not looked close to panic in his concern.

"I'm all right," she said softly.

Her fingers closed on two handfuls of soft black wool. She held on tight.

"How many fingers?"

"Two more than might get you shot in an American Muggle traffic jam."

"Do know what day this is?"

"Of course! Happy Christmas Professor Trelawney. Did you lose your glasses again?"

"Ideally, a sense of humor should be improved by consciousness."

"Which memories did you see, sir?"

"I saw only what you showed me, Miss Granger. How were you attempting to block?"

"First I erected barriers, then the Wizard of Oz, and then meditation when I got desperate."

"Meditation?"

"Yes, I do it to relax. This time I used magic to speed the process. I went very deep trying to get away from you, sir."

"I suggest that you try something else. A successful mind block should not leave you defenseless to a physical attack."

Suddenly Snape seemed to realize that he was holding her. He helped her to stand. Reluctantly she let go of his clothes.

"Any dizziness?"

"No, I'm fine, sir."

"My apologies for- I caught you as you fell," he explained almost guiltily.

"Don't apologize for saving me a concussion, Professor. Thank you for catching me. May I try again if I promise not to fall over this time?"

"If you wish to continue I suggest you attempt to enter my mind. I will not keep you out. Nor will I give you free rein once you are in here. Perhaps you would prefer to sit?"

"Yes, I would if you don't mind."

Snape wordlessly angled the chairs to face. They sat in their designated chairs.

"Sir, isn't there a chance that I could hurt you just by not knowing what I'm doing?"

"Yes, there is a small chance. That is why I will be defending myself even as I admit you. You are welcome to enter. Please attempt to do so when you are ready."

"Are there steps that I can take to prevent doing harm?"

"Your concern is appreciated. You will not learn those skills in this lesson. You can trust me to protect my own mind, Miss Granger. Come in if you can."

Hermione seized on the challenge. She turned her mind into a diver and executed a perfect swan from high atop a cliff deep into Snape's giant mind pensieve. She felt a small amount of resistance like surface tension that melted pleasantly around the shape of her consciousness. Suddenly she was inside Snape sensing his surrounding memory from his perspective. She felt the ache of his body and knew that he had recently been the victim of Cruciatus. She smelled and tasted myrrh and camphor and knew he had drank a Draught of Vivification used to repair minor nerve damage. That potion has no shelf life. It must be made fresh just prior to use. She watched noting a slight tremor as his hands unrolled a parchment. It was a letter from Slug and Jiggers informing him that they had received anonymous payment for the cost of quantities of Bicorn horn and Boomslang skin to be delivered to him at Hogwarts. They were enquiring as to how they should proceed as the order was an unusual one. Suddenly, she felt the same resistance that she had encountered entering. It changed shape, solidified into a cushioning mass and pressed gently against her nudging her out of Snape and his memory. Her mind withdrew. Suddenly she was sitting across from him held by his dark gaze.

"So you knew it was me, sir."

"You covered your tracks well. Your downfall was the lack of other suspects both clever and brave enough to commit the crime yet conscientious enough to reimburse me after. You have done well tonight, Miss Granger. I believe you could become accomplished at both Occlumency and Legilimency with lessons and practice."

"Sir, who cast Cruciatus on you?"

Snape looked surprised but recovered quickly.

"Lucius Malfoy."

"Why?"

"We had a minor disagreement."

"About what?" She regretted asking. It was none of her business. She expected Snape to tell her that. Instead he said, "It concerned Draco's Potions grades."

"Draco's grades were always excellent. He showed real talent at Potions."

"Yes, that was part of our disagreement. What else did you glean from the memory?"

Hermione realized that there was something about the incident Snape that did not want her to know.

"It was because my grades in the class were higher than Malfoy's. Wasn't it sir?"

"Yes."

"Yet you never lowered my grades. You never raised his. Grading was the only thing you did fairly, well, a lot fairer than the taking House Points."

"House Points do not matter."

"I'm ashamed how many years it took me to work that one out. I'm sorry that my grades caused you trouble, Professor."

"You have no reason to be."

"I wish you'd told me. I could have-"

"Miss Granger, it was a one time incident. I sorted out the matter with Lucius."

"May I ask how, sir?"

"I reminded him that his only heir was under my protection."

"That's quite a threat."

"No, it was the reality. Malfoy chose to view it as a threat. After, he decided it was not my fault if his son was too lazy to work harder than you."

"So he took his frustration out on Draco who dared let the mudblood get better grades?"

"Draco then brought his troubles concerning his father's unfair expectations to me."

"Giving you the chance to undermine his father's authority?"

"Making opportunity of misfortune is the mark of every good Slytherin. Did you arrive at any other insights on your excursion into my past?"

"You made and drank a Draught of Vivification and were still suffering some nerve damage in your hands due I presume to the Cruciatus Curse."

"Anything else?"

"It was a real memory."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes."

"Excellent, Miss Granger. What else?"

"You were practicing Occlumency during the memory."

"Why would you think so?"

"Because there was nothing going on in your mind, no emotion, no stray thought. It was almost like your mind wasn't there. That's why you picked that particular memory to show me."

"Yes, I hoped you would recognize the Occlumency. Anything else?"

Hermione thought back over the experience. Then shook her head.

Snape raised an eyebrow.

"What did I miss, sir?"

"Who knows? You did well. I did not think you could detect the reduced effects of Cruciatus or the Draught of Vivification since I do not teach it and know Slughorn did not. I underestimated you."

"May I try keeping you out again, sir."

"All right. Again, this will be a very low level attack. Are you prepared?"

"Yes sir."

This time she tried to emulate what Snape was doing in his memory. It felt almost as though she was handing her mind off to the universe. The feeling of emotional disconnect was horrible. She snatched it back again. She could feel him wrestling control away from her. She made her mind a transparent sphere. When she could feel him trying to get hold on it, she made the sphere slippery as a soap bubble. He pushed against it. She let it give just a bit until he was nearly in then pushed with all her soul and being and tossed him out.

"Well done. You have sucessfully defended against an attack without falling over. What did you do to defend yourself?"

"I tried to clear my mind as you were doing in your memory. It felt- frightfully unnatural, sir. Instead I imagined my consciousness as a transparent sphere. I made it slippery and hard to hold on to, then increased its elasticity. I let you push against it then pushed back as hard as I could."

"Visualization seems to be your strong suit. It does not matter whether or not you ever learn my techniques so long as yours work for you. How do you feel?"

"I feel the effort like the start of a headache or like it's time to take a break from reading."

"The level of effort required lessens with practice. Would you like to take a break?"

Hermione stood. "If you'll have a cup of tea with me, sir?"

"I will."

She fixed two cups and handed one to Snape who nodded his thanks.

"Did you spar with Dumbledore often?"

"When I was young before my Occlumency surpassed his Legilimency. Soon we both became proficient at keeping each other out."

"Why were you practicing Occlumency that day in your memory then? I had assumed you were practicing long distance with Dumbledore."

"As I said Occlumency can only be used in self-defense. The opponent need not be a Legilimens however. Occlumency is mastery over one's own mind. If you can master the skills of Occlumency, you can use them to stop nightmares, solve mental puzzles, escape stray emotions that consume thought, split concentration to juggle numerous tasks at once, and even lessen the perception of physical pain."

"That's why it was an ache and not debilitating agony. He'd only just cast Cruciatus on you. Hadn't he?"

"Yes, I met with him at the manor perhaps two hours before. Normally I would have taken a sleeping or pain potion along with the Draught of Vivification as that draught also increases pain as it repairs nerves. Unfortunately, I had classes to teach."

"Sir, why did Voldemort trust you if he knew of your skills?"

"He knew I was a natural Legilimens and knew I had never used that power against him. He had no concept of the extent of my powers as an Occlumens. He wanted to believe that his Legilimency was superior to any ability I might have to keep him out. I did everything I could to instill that false sense of security."

"You were using these skills while making potions for the infirmary. Weren't you, sir?"

Snape nodded. "I find ways to employ them constantly. These skills are like muscles, Miss Granger. They strengthen with use and atrophy with neglect."

"For all the practice you got with Voldemort you must be one of the finest Occlumens in the world, sir."

"Perhaps."

"Professor, if you would teach me I'd promise to do my very best to learn and practice all I can."

"I do not doubt your study habits, Miss Granger. I will discuss regular lessons with Minerva."

"In exchange for lessons I'll do your drudge work, sir."

"Are you trying to deprive the recipients of my detentions of something useful to occupy their idle time? How very selfish of you. If you would care to assist me with potions in your spare time you are more than welcome. You are certainly not obligated to do so. It is nine o'clock."

"Have you charmed the time to pass faster in here?"

"Were I so skilled in Chronomancy I would save the effort for staff meetings and Ministry galas."

"I'm glad I'm not the only one expecting 'A Night to Remember' to be just dreadful. At least we can drink and make fun of the Minister together."

"So you have not heard? Because of the number of students invited many of whom are still underage no alcohol will be served."

"Oh Gods!"

"Yes, 'A Night to Remember' because they offer no other option. Needless to say I am most grateful that I will have your company in our misery. Goodnight, Miss Granger. I will see you tomorrow night at eight."

"Goodnight sir. Thank you for my lesson."

A/N- I do not use Unforgivables to get reviews. May I bribe you with an imaginary chocolate frog?


	8. Inedible Fruits of Knowledge

Thanks to all my reviewers: KellyRoxton (like the intern in the maternity ward, will deliver again soon : ) duj (Bless you! I do try : )Marie (all the chocolate in Belgium has your name on it when I take over the world or at least Belgium : ) BedtimeStory(I would hate to make you wait and will do all I can so you won't : ) toostupidforyou (You are too good to me : ) Miss Fytt (is always welcome at my hearth : ) CareBearErin (How do you feel about virtual Stoly? See below as well. : ) gal-from-the-'hood (Ah hah! I knew someone would want one! Have another froggy : ) Bene Gesserit Witch (I'd rather be audited than to disappoint you. Nothing to do with spiky thimbles and nasty pain box either. : ) me (Thanks! Will do: ) little beloved ( Thanks! I like slow build for Hermione too. Few writers can do justice otherwise. : ) moonfairy (meep! No help for it. I'm just blushing now. : ) Mari Skyrin-Sarker ( I do agree! Thanks: )

Seriously I don't know what to do with all your excessive kindness. Someone say something really horrible please! I'm trying to get the next chapter up ASAP just for you before I start getting bogged down in holly days, or dolly haze if one has tots or is one or both. Can't promise more than one until January but I'll do my best.

Special thanks to CareBearErin for catching a mistake and helping me evict a rogue chocolatier from the hallowed grounds of Hogwarts.

Discovering the Hidden Heart

Part Eight

Inedible Fruits of Knowledge

In a place nearly unknown for fair weather the season would be recorded in local memory as being curiously un-Scots. Tuesday was perhaps the most deliriously perfect day Hogwarts had seen in its long history. Though she hadn't so much as glanced out of a window, Hermione wasn't the least bit surprised when McGonagall announced all classes canceled yet again. After breakfast, she packed herself off to the Room of Requirement determined to make the day productive by finishing her paper on their new spell.

When Hermione entered the room she found a lovely old writing desk complete with a comfortable chair next to a roaring fire. On the back of the chair was a lap throw of the softest alpaca. In the corner stood a bookshelf filled with a stunning array of useful texts including Wizarding and Muggle dictionaries, a historical biography of Salazar Slytherin, a how-to for writing academic papers, and a reference book on origin spells. On the table near the desk was a bowl of fresh fruit, a jug of milk, and a steaming teapot.

A thought hit her with the force of a punch. She had spent seven years at Hogwarts and hardly any time at all in this miraculous room! How could she have wasted so many opportunities to do so?

Then there was Snape. She realized she would miss him more than any of her other professors or her remaining classmates while having hardly scratched the surface when it came to getting to know him. She had always accused other students of wasting their time. How much time had she wasted at Hogwarts rereading the same books, making busy work for herself, or putting in extra hours far beyond the calling of Head Girl? Why? So no one could fault the choice of a Muggle-born for the position? It didn't matter if that was what she had always told herself. She didn't believe her own lies anymore. The truth was she used needing to prove herself as a Muggle-born as a convenient excuse for indulging her obsessive-compulsive behaviors. Who else counted the steps from one classroom to another? Who reread books? Who studied pages of notes they could recite word for bloody word? Who always set a quill in the same place every time, or anything, any number of other items? Who needed things just so?

Hermione was tired of herself. She was sick of her peace of mind rituals, her pointless study routines, and her meaningless rationalizations. She was fed up ordering the world around her knowledge of it. She was exhausted being who people thought she was, which was who she had convinced herself she ought to be. She didn't want to change the world! She didn't need to free the House Elves! She didn't even feel compelled to set a good example for the first years anymore!

What did she want? Well, what did she want other than being locked up with Snape in a library teetering somewhere on the edge of nowhere? Perhaps not any library- certainly Hogwarts library wouldn't do. This room or his office or anywhere for that matter so long as it was cut off from other people like an island and had access to plenty of books that she hadn't read.

It wasn't about Snape not Snape particularly. It wasn't as if she were in love with him or anything. He just happened to be the only company she could bear being around lately. That was a lie. She really enjoyed his company. She didn't care for her company own anymore. Crookshanks had become some strange cat she hardly recognized. He was only tolerable because he slept so much of the time.

Maybe she did have a bit of a crush on Snape. Maybe he knew it, too. Perhaps the whole school knew. It would be so typical for her to have a crush and be the last person at Hogwarts to hear about it.

He did have interesting lips. They looked too cruel to kiss and too sensual not to kiss. Thoughts of kissing him or him kissing her caused her body to respond. Since when did sexual fantasies have anything to do with her life though? She never fantasized about Ron. He was too- predictable. The thought of touching Snape and being caressed by those long, meticulous, elegant fingers- seducing and being seduced-

All right, so she did have some kind of school girl crush on a teacher who happened to be Snape for Gods' sakes! What could be more normal than having a crush on a teacher? Wasn't everyone supposed to crush on a teacher at one time or another? Muggles write songs about it.

He was also a spy and a war hero. Gods! He was a completely acceptable romantic figure! There was nothing at all the least bit odd about her body responding sexually just thinking about him. Snape might not be handsome in the conventional sense. That didn't bother her. Draco Malfoy was the human version of a monopole magnet known to attract the most sensible of women as well as the straightest of men. She didn't even want to think about his father. Malfoys made Veelas drool. They also made her an orphan, worshipped Voldemort, and killed Harry. So much for the goodness of beauty!

Snape was brave, brilliant, and mysterious. She didn't have any real feelings for him beyond friendship and this inexplicable physical attraction. Perhaps that was enough. Maybe it could turn into more. Maybe she didn't need more. Surely there were worse reasons for starting sexual relationships than companionship and attraction. They seemed to be getting along well enough. She had no idea whether she held any appeal for him at all. She knew she fell closer to sex goddess than mountain troll, well, who didn't? She didn't really think her looks would be a deciding factor for Snape. He just didn't seem that shallow. She suspected she might attract Snape with her mind while repulsing him with her age and student status. Perhaps after she graduated she could convince him that her youth was not her fault.

She wanted him. Less than a month from now he would not be her professor. If she wanted him now, she'd want him more after three weeks of thinking about him.

Where did that leave her? Was she going to be Miss Granger throw herself at Occlumency and N.E.W.T.s instead and do nothing to satisfy her more physical desires? Or was she going to be Hermione ever willing to give her all but tired of never getting what she wanted in return, in this case a solid fantasy lover of her very own.

Hermione couldn't change the past. She could make the most of the time she had left here. Perhaps she could even keep one of her requirements after she left this room and Hogwarts too for that matter. She fixed herself a cup of tea then settled in to complete her paper. The fruit and tea kept her content enough to skip lunch. When she emerged an hour before dinner she had a clean copy of her final draft tucked away in her book bag and a new agenda for her future at Hogwarts and beyond.

Before heading back to her room she went to the Owlery. She gave her paper to Hedwig to deliver to Snape. She showered and dressed, put Snape's book in her bag, took dinner in the Great Hall, and then read a while in the Room of Requirement before meeting Snape.

When he opened the door his hair looked exactly the same as it had every time she had ever seen him except for last night. Perhaps he washed it all the time. Now wasn't that disappointing? She rather had liked the idea that he'd gone to trouble with his appearance just for her. Then again perhaps it would be clean again tonight if she only had said something nice about it last night.

"Come in, Miss Granger. I have not had the opportunity to read your paper. I do have a copy of mine which you may take with you."

"I'll read it tonight, sir. I have your book. Thank you letting me borrow it. I took your suggestion and spent some time in the Room of Requirement today."

"Is that why you were not at lunch?"

"I had some fruit for lunch. Apparently it was what I required."

"Nothing red I take it?"

"Just oranges, white grapes, and bananas."

"Did you find any good reading?"

"Lots. It was a brilliant idea on your part."

"I do have them occasionally. However, since you cannot take the books that you find there you may borrow another from me if you would like one to read in your room."

"I'd really appreciate it. I want to part ways with my own books. I know them all by heart. A lot of them are Muggle books. All of them are good reading at the first twenty times or so. I'd like you to have them. Consider them a thank you gift."

"You should keep your books."

"You can always give them away if you don't want to keep them."

"Miss Granger, what color is Blood-Replenishing Potion?"

"Red, sir."

"What color is Heart-Strengthening Solution?"

"That's red also sir. Scarlet red."

"What color is the antidote for Aegean Lap Dragon venom?

"Dark red, sir. I do see where this is going."

"I can help you. If you'll let me I'll consider that my gift for what ever it is you are thanking me."

"You are going to try to make me eat something red, aren't you?"

"It seems the simplest solution."

Snape gestured to a silver covered serving plate sitting beside the tea service. It levitated to the table between them.

"Please don't do this."

"Miss Granger your aversion to ingesting a single color is ridiculous and unhealthy."

"You said this would pass with time!"

"I gave you time."

"What? A few days?"

"I call that generous compared to the time it takes to chew and swallow."

"What's under that lid?"

"Raw beef."

"You can't be serious!"

"What if an enemy captured you and threw nothing but raw beef into your cell?"

"I find your hypothetical situation highly unlikely, sir."

"If I were to lock you up and feed you nothing but raw beef?"

"You wouldn't."

"Now we are getting somewhere. Saying that I would not is tantamount to agreeing that I could."

"I never said that you couldn't or that your first scenario was impossible. I merely said it was unlikely which it is."

"What is the likelihood of you requiring one of the over three thousand known medicinal potions all red in color over the course of your remaining lifetime?"

"I don't need your help with this."

"If you were going to overcome this problem yourself you would have done so by now."

"What incentive could you possibly give me to eat raw meat?"

"Occlumency training."

"You spoke to Minerva?"

"Indeed, I let it be known to her how much you irritated me by keeping me out of your mind while managing to access my own. If you were not her very favorite before her hearing that you are now. I absolutely refused to tutor you further. So of course Minerva now agrees with us that you should receive as many lessons as you would like."

"Thank you."

"You can thank me right now, Miss Granger. Incidently, I could waste your time in our lessons or?"

"I can eat raw meat?"

"Top marks."

"What? No points for Gryffindor?"

"You are afraid to eat red food and dare call yourself a Gryffindor?"

"Fear has got nothing to do with this, neither does getting sorted into Gryffindor."

"What is the color of your House?"

"Coincidentally, red. You do something really decent for me and then turn it into blackmail trying to coerce me to do something else I would find completely disgusting even without my aversion, all for my own good. What do you call that? Slytherin charity?"

"Thankfully there is no such concept. This might be considered an example of Slytherin friendship."

"You intend to use me? For what may I ask?"

"I am already using you. You have become my confidant and willing Potions assistant. Do you play chess? Forgive me for trying to get all the use I can out of you but our time is short."

"This all started as Slytherin repayment of debt. Didn't it?"

"Again, my friendship is poor payment for your relationship with Mr. Weasley but I am all I have to offer."

"In your misfortune of being in my debt you found opportunity?"

"And have exploited it to my benefit."

"Concerning your hypothetical situation I still don't see how it could possibly matter to Salazar whether I eat raw meat or starve to death in the cell of my enemy or here in your office for that matter since I would die of starvation about the same time that I graduate. I'm glad it matters to you, sir. You never owed me anything but can consider any debt you felt you owed me repaid in full and then some by your friendship which I value far too much to end just because I leave school. The benefits that come from befriending a Gryffindor are freely given so exploit away if it makes you feel like a better Slytherin. Furthermore, as much as I might like to thank you I find I can not at this time do so by eating your meat not even for Occlumency, Professor."

She could almost see her last words replaying in his head.

Snape continued to stare at her a while, then reached over and lifted the silver lid. "Strawberry?" The scent diffused into the room. Hermione closed her eyes. She could have been sitting in a field of them, though there were only five, ripe, perfect, and oh so very red, and placed on the plate stems inward forming a star on the dish. She reached out and took one.

She had never so closely studied a strawberry before. This particular strawberry, symmetrical with smooth planes tapering into a dull point, very much resembled the head of a snake. Even its delicate skin peppered with achenes conveyed an impression of snake scales. Once that image took hold in her mind she imagined the snake's eyes open and its forked tongue darting out to taste her in the air around it. It didn't move. It did not look at her or taste the air. This was only the bloody head of a decapitated snake, part of her mind supplied.

"Even a severed head may inflict a deadly bite, " she whispered to herself.

She tossed it away into the hearth shaking and gasping for breath. She looked down at her bloody hands. She smelled the battlefield. She felt as cold as death. Snape was there crouched down and talking to her. She could hear the soothing tone of his voice distantly. She couldn't decipher his words though. They were just sounds that seemed to have no associated meaning. She looked down again. He was holding both her hands despite all the blood on them. His hands were warm. He was warm, so very warm. She withdrew her hands and wrapped her arms around him. She fell into him desperate for his heat.

There on the floor in front of the fireplace Snape gathered her into his lap. He summoned a blanket and magically wrapped her in it so that he could hold her all the while. He put the need to berate himself for pushing her too hard in a conveniently retrievable mind file tagged 'to do.' He crumpled the idea that here was an attractive female who flirted with him, smelled like a luxurious midnight feast, and felt so gloriously good pressed against his body and tossed that away into his mental incinerator. He tilted her head back lifted both eyelids to view her pupils. She was not in clinical shock though certain of her symptoms mirrored that condition. Her skin was extremely cold to the touch. He eased gently into her mind. He found himself in her memory staring at a version of himself on the field of battle in black and white and shades of gray. Her memory of those moments was far worse than he remembered and so much more vivid in other details with all color gone. The scents were overpowering. The creeping stickiness seemed to crawl under her skin. He stared at himself a moment longer feeling the solace she had taken in his company. He eased out again.

"Enervate! Miss Granger?"

"Sorry. I'm so sorry, sir."

He released her and let her crawl off of him closer to the fire. She was shivering still. He stood and wrapped the blanket she had left behind around her shoulders.

"Can you walk with me?"

"I think so."

"Come then."

She stood holding onto his wrist.

"Where are we going?"

"To the infirmary."

"NO!"

She was hyperventilating again looking as crazed as a trapped animal.

"Stupefy!"

He caught her and lifted her cocooning her securely in the blanket with magic. Her dead weight in his arms felt insufficient to account for her. Carrying her was like toting a sleeping child. She looked so young and fragile too. Where had that fierce warrior he had fought beside gone to now? Snape headed for the infirmary wandlessly and wordlessly opening doors before him and warding them in his wake.

A/N- Reviews of any shape or size be they witty be they wise  
ranging from 'Stop typing now! Just give it up you silly cow.'  
to literary posies sent from sweet lass or kindly gent  
make me want to write instead of sleeping soundly in my bed.  
Don't need coffee from a tin. Your words are my adrenaline!


	9. Friend of My Enemy

BedtimeStory- Hah! I have you now! (tries pitiful best at villainous laughter and now requires throat lozenge and a lie down) Thank you!

Kelly Roxton- Sorry I put you off your dinner. Don't worry, more fluff to come! Thank you!

Guinn Pern-Thanks! Will try to maintain!

Anonymous- Thank you! Glad you liked the room. Many surprises await at the ball!

CareBearErin- Glad you liked Snape's reaction. Great minds think alike?

Minnnie- Thank you! I love that you like my story! Here's more!

gal-from-the-'hood- Will do my best to make the dialogue less difficult while remaining true to the characters. Yum! Cyber-bickies! Thank you!

Virgo Animus- Happy I could oblige! Thank you!

Mari Skyrin-Sarker- I do agree with you. Will see what I can do to make it less abrupt. Thank you!

lola-kitten- I try. I really do! Updates should come quickly after the holidays. Thanks!

Ivy- Thanks! Will try!

little beloved- Thanks! Glad I can give you a flutter today! I'm American. My mum was English. We lived many years in Canada. My spelling is all over the place I'm afraid and generally sloppy to boot. Thank goodness for SpellCheck! I wear my green for you!

Season's greetings and pleasant holy days, everyone! In no particular order: Best Kwanza ever! Merry Christmas! Happy Chanukah! Warmest winter wishes! Prosperous Yule! If I have left you out, believe me it was unintended. ( Insert favorite positive adjective, favorite observance religious or otherwise and an exclamation point here) Is it me, or is being inoffensive getting harder all the time?

Luckily dear readers I can not be offended. I'm thrilled you read my stories. I want to know what you REALLY think! Feel free to flame me if you like or if you feel like it offer con-crit, advice, corrections, moral support, sweets for my ego, or just say hi! I write for you.

Discovering the Hidden Heart

Part Nine

Friend of My Enemy

When Hermione opened her eyes she was staring at the high vaulted ceiling of the infirmary. She turned her head. Madame Pomfrey, Minerva, and Snape were all standing there staring at her. Madame Pomfrey looked nervous. Minerva looked worried. Snape displayed no expression what so ever. Gods! She knew what ever they had to tell her that it was going to be terrible.

"How long have I been here?"

"Today is Thursday," said Madame Pomfrey. "Do you remember what day Professor Snape brought you here?"

"Tuesday. What's wrong with me, Madame Pomfrey?"

Poppy and Minerva exchanged a look. Neither of them spoke. Poppy's lips pressed into a thin line as though sealing in words she did not wish to say. Hermione waited.

"Madame Pomfrey?"

Madame Pomfrey glanced at her fleetingly but did not meet her eyes.

"Professor Snape?"

"You have contracted a magical parasite."

"Now, it's not necessarily a parasite-" said Pomfrey to Snape.

"It bloody well is for her!"

The amount of his venom in his voice and perhaps his swearing visibly startled Pomfrey already looking nervous enough to jump out of her skin.

"Such language, Professor!" said McGonagall

"Minerva, Miss Granger has heard worse."

"Not from you I hope!"

"So Professor Snape, you were telling me about my magical parasite?"

"Understand that at this point everything is conjecture. I theorize that Lucius Malfoy was the previous host. Malfoy's blood after his death mixed with your blood. This gave the parasite an opportunity to transfer itself from a dead host to you, a living healthy one. It could not continue to survive had it remained in Malfoy."

"What does it do?"

"It feeds off certain emotions."

"Oh. That explains some things."

Snape leaned in with his fists on her bed. She had the mad idea that he was about to crawl on top of her. He stopped short of that so that his nose was nearly touching hers.

"HOW LONG?"

"Professor Snape!" said Madame Pomfrey

"Severus, do calm down. It does no good to shout at the poor child," said Minerva. Snape took no notice.

"HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN AWARE OF SYMPTOMS?"

"Out! I will not have you shouting at my patients! Out of my infirmary right now, Professor Snape!" said Madame Pomfrey.

Snape did not budge from the spot.

"No! He's the only one answering my questions! If Professor Snape is leaving you can bet that I'm following him down to the dungeons!"

"Best Professor Snape stays then I'd say Poppy. Can't have Miss Granger traipsing off down to the dungeons in what she's wearing."

For the first time Hermione took notice of what she was wearing. It was the low cut, lacy, wouldn't-get-caught-dead-in baby doll nightie that the Patil twins had given her for her birthday last year. Gods, it was at the bottom of her drawer! The House Elves truly must despise her! She tried to look nonchalant or at least a bit chilly pulling the covers up over her shoulders.

"I protest!" said Pomfrey.

"Oh Poppy, no one else is in here. We're the only ones who can hear Professor Snape's bellowing."

"Hmmph, I for one refuse to listen to any more of it! I will be in my office. Never.. born days.. not if Albus Dumble-" Poppy's office door closed off the rest of her rant.

"I thought it was all psychological, Professor. I didn't see any point to getting the scrapes on my hands looked at when Seamus and Blaise and all the rest of the injured- what does it matter? We know now."

"We could have gotten it out of you, you stupid girl! Last week, I may have been able to dislodge it safely!"

"Is it going to kill me?"

Snape's anger seemed to fade.

"No."

"Then I'm missing the big picture, Professor."

"If you were a Death Eater you might consider that -thing- in you a symbiote. It devours certain emotions and in return excretes raw magic into you.

"Severus-"

"It does!"

"Perhaps, but surely you could phrase it differently."

"Headmistress, I don't care how he phrases it. I need this information. Is there any reason I have to stay here?"

"No. Take that wretched gown off and come with me."

"Poppy hasn't released her!"

"There is nothing Poppy can do for her. Miss Granger, you can not conceive children."

"Severus!"

"She needs to know, Minerva."

"What else, Professor?"

"You no longer experience a normal range of emotion. However, that thing in you has a will of it own. It has needs and will drive you to meet them. It may cause personality changes, odd cravings, and alterations in your behavior."

"What sort of emotions does it feed on?"

"Most of them, child. Anger is yours to keep," said Minerva.

"Hatred?"

"Yours," said Snape.

"Explains a bit about Lucius Malfoy. How long do you think he was infected?"

"How would I know? He would have had to contract it some time between Draco's conception and the battle. It is irrelevant."

"Probably. Why have I been so cold?"

"Too bad you were not the least bit curious about that last week!"

"Now Severus-"

"It's all right Headmistress. Professor Snape doesn't annoy me in the least any more. Maybe it's the parasite."

"Perhaps I should get one then," mumbled Minerva.

"Talking to you helped, Professor. That's why I thought the cold was psychological."

"Talking to Professor Snape helped?" said Minerva perking up as though her interest had peaked.

"Well, yes, before and after my lesson we talked. I wasn't cold then."

Minerva laughed like this was the best joke she'd heard in years. Snape glared at her.

"Well, it wouldn't be the first time, Severus," she said wiping tears away with her kerchief.

"What?"said Hermione trying to look puzzled though she knew very well what Minerva was suggesting. She suspected Minerva wouldn't find the whole thing so hilarious if her Gryffindor Head Girl told her just how correct that notion was.

"It seems that thing is leaching BTUs when you are not supplying it with sufficient emotion," said Snape.

"Doesn't -the thing- even have a name?"

"There are many names- manitou, water spirit, lake devil. All are far too general to be particularly useful. Name your guest Fido if you would like. It falls loosely under the category of Magical Creature and is native to the Great Lakes region of North America. These things do not infest us under normal circumstances. They can not use Muggles as hosts at all."

"So emotions and BTUs, is there anything else on which it can feed?"

"This is a rare condition, Miss Granger, for reasons I would be happy to discuss with you at length. There is next to no information in Mediwizardry. Before you, acquiring one was thought to be impossible without the use of Dark Magic. As far as you feeling cold, perhaps you are more effected than Malfoy since body heat tends to be more centralized in females. Having a higher percentage of body fat doesn't help since the drain comes from within. I can brew you potions to help alleviate that problem."

"May I help, sir?"

"Yes. You would do well to learn how to brew them for your future use."

"I'll inform Poppy that Professor Snape -has- released her patient to the dungeons then. Hermione, just because there is no known cure doesn't mean that I don't have every faith that you will find one. We shall help all we can." Minerva looked pointedly at Snape who rolled his eyes but nodded.

"Thank you Headmistress and you Professor."

"Dress. I will meet you in my office." Snape stalked out.

Hermione dressed quickly and left the infirmary before Minerva or Poppy emerged from Pomfrey's office. She made her way down to the dungeons expecting the worst. She doubted the small taste he'd given her in the infirmary compared to the full fury he'd unleash without Poppy and Minerva there to shield her. She knocked and entered when the wards admitted her. She found him in his chair staring thoughtfully into the fire.

"I'm sorry, Professor. I should have told you everything. I didn't recognize what I was experiencing as symptoms. I just thought-"

"It is not your fault, Miss Granger. Most likely your secrecy is the result of that thing protecting itself."

"Do you really believe that?"

"I believe it is responsible for all the changes in your mood and behavior since the battle. It befriended me not you. Perhaps it remembers me from when it was in Malfoy. I do hate to think our conversations are just continuations of my dealings with him."

"Professor-" what could she say that he would believe? I'll still fantasize about you when I get rid of my parasite? "Gods, this is awful. I don't have a shed of credibility so long as it's in me!"

"Do not worry, Miss Granger, if that is you to whom I am speaking. I have not shared my views on this aspect of your infestation with anyone in case I am wrong."

"Professor, this is me. I know it has been feeding on my emotions. I know it has been exerting influence. It is certainly not in control of me. It's not forcing me to be secretive. I don't feel like I need to keep secrets for you. Honestly, I would have told you everything if I'd known it was important. It just seemed so trivial that I felt cold after the war when so many other people died. I trust you. Why would it trust you? You want to help me get rid of it. So you see this is me. I'm not going to turn into a Death Eater."

"I do hope you are correct."

"If you weren't angry at me why were you shouting at me?"

"Temper tantrums were one of the first social tactics I ever learned and are still surprisingly effective. I needed Minerva to tell me to help you. She did. I needed Poppy to keep her nose out of it. She will. I am surprised she put up with nearly two days of me. She can not abide me at the best of times never mind when I go about swearing and making scenes. All that shouting afforded me a great deal of leeway in treating you. You should know that Minerva will not approve of any of my solutions to your problem. However, since it is your life Minerva will not be having a say."

"What are your solutions, Professor?"

"First, you need to know what I know and suspect about that thing you are hosting in your body. Sit." Hermione sat. Snape levitated a cup of tea to her. "By the way, I have your Kneazle in my rooms."

"Crookshanks?"

"Does it really answer to that?"

"Not usually. You have my Kneazle as a house guest, sir?"

"I believe I just said that."

"Why?"

"It does require feeding and a minimum of attention. Does it not? I did not know then how long you would be in the infirmary."

"That was kind of you sir. He would have been all right on his own. He can get out to hunt though he much prefers being lazy and getting looked after. Has he been a complete monster?"

"No, it was very well behaved."

"Are you certain you've got -my- Kneazle, sir?"

"According to the House Elves it was in your room."

"Why was I unconscious for two days?"

"Potions. We did not know what was wrong with you or whether you were contagious. Clearly you did not want to be in the infirmary. Sleep seemed the best way of keeping you there."

"Was it you who diagnosed my condition, Professor?"

"Yes. I recognized a second consciousness with Legilimency. At first I thought you might be pregnant. When Poppy ruled that out we ran further tests. Identifying the parasite required research. How familiar are you with Native American culture and its magical traditions?"

"Not very I'm afraid. I know every tribe had a unique language and it's own set of beliefs. At one time all native cultures incorporated Muggles and the occasional Wizards into one society. Magical traditions were integrated throughout the culture as a whole. This gave rise to the idea of religion. In most cultures, religion resulted in Priestly classes whether those in that class were Wizards, Muggles, or both. In Britain, much of Europe, and the Middle East, Wizards separated from Muggles out of self-preservation when Muggles took power over the Priestly classes and called for our extermination. In other societies, no such schism occurred. Even today, despite a long, brutal history of interference by a hostile government and Muggle missionaries many Native American tribes still embrace their magical traditions. The shaman, the wise woman, or the healer is just a member working toward the greater good of the tribe. Magic is something certain members of the tribe produce and is no more frightening or out of the ordinary than a quilt or an addendum to tribal law. Currently some of the best Wizarding Schools in America are located in casinos on land under tribal ownership."

"Do you know the story of Nanabozho and the Great Serpent?"

"No sir."

"Native Americans living in the Great Lakes region told of the Great Serpent, a spirit of great evil, in control of lesser spirit minions. They also told of Nanabozho a great wizard revered as a hero-god who battled the Great Serpent when it captured Nanabozho's cousin. It is a flood story. When the cousin is killed, Nanabozho mortally wounds the Great Serpent. Before dying, the Great Serpent and its minions cause a revenge flood in order to destroy Nanabozho and his people. The wizard and his people survive on rafts until the flood waters recede. They find the Great Serpent dead. However, its minions escape back into the lake. Before Europeans named it Lake Superior, it was known among other names such as Spirit Lake and the Lake of Devils. It also contains the world's largest known concentration of the magical parasite within you. I believe the spell used to attract the lake spirit was some variation on the Binding of the Dark Familiar. I know Voldemort used that spell on Nagini. I believe something like it was used to bind the basilisk. Potter did report that it would only respond to Riddle's commands in parseltongue."

"Did Voldemort know?"

"About Lucius? Perhaps, but I doubt it. Unbeknownst to Voldemort Lucius spent fortunes on Dark Arts objects which he hoarded away from his master. He searched high and low risking any spell he thought might increase his magic. He hoped to one day rival Voldemort or to succeed him. I am certain that Lucius jumped at the chance to contaminate himself with what you have in you now."

"You said the parasite falls loosely into the category of Magical Creature. Why?"

"Before it infected a host it was a non-corporeal entity, a sort of lake spirit. It was no more and no less a creature than Binns. Once in its first host, perhaps Malfoy perhaps not, it changed taking the physical manifestation of its spiritual form."

"Which is?"

"It now looks a lot like a red lamprey."

"Ugh. Sir, the strawberry reminded me of a snake's head. That's what triggered my reaction. I imagined blood on my hands and the battle-"

"Yes, I know, I viewed that memory. Perhaps the infestation is the source of your aversion. Part of your mind may have been aware of the parasite all along. Perhaps that part of your mind has been battling against it."

"How big is it?"

"Larger than you would ever imagine it could be and still growing."

"How could that get in through a tiny scrape on my hand?"

"It shed its physical form and grew a new one upon entering a new host."

"I want it out of me."

"As I said, I have some ideas about how to accomplish that. I think you should investigate the problem yourself and formulate your solutions to the problem independently. We may then collaborate."

"Like the paper, sir?"

"Yes, I read yours. I think you put too much emphasis on the original problem, the dating of the saying. On the whole it is very good, much better than the average claptrap published in journals."

"Thank you. I'm looking forward to reading yours."

"Use it as a break away from the problem at hand. There is no rush. The Wizarding World has done without that spell for a very long time. Your well-being is far more important. Minerva will excuse you from any work or classes you see fit to miss, providing she doesn't cancel them due to an unexpected sun beam." Snape summoned a piece of parchment and handed it to her. "These titles are all the books in my library containing useful information relating to your condition. The pages are listed. As you might notice the list is short. I urge you to conduct your own research in case I overlooked something. Use that list as your starting point. From now on my office wards will accept you. You are free to come and go as you please. You know how to access my library. You may take away any book you wish."

"I don't know what else to say. Thank you just doesn't cover it."

"Minerva has also consented to allow us the use of Dumbledore's private library for what ever good it will do. Come. I'll show you."

She followed Snape up to the second floor to the gargoyle guarding Minerva's office.

"Haggis."

The door opened revealing the staircase. Snape gestured for her to go ahead. When she started to walk up he caught her arm.

"Dumbledore's library."

Suddenly the steps reversed direction, winding downward into empty space. She followed Snape down into the darkness until finally the steps ended at a pale oak door in the shape of an ogee arch with a gold handle and brace work. Snape opened the door and held it for her. Inside was a daybed completely covered in hand-knitted pillows. A claw footed vase by the daybed held yarn of every color and knitting needles of various sizes. In the center of the room stood a stand with a single book on it. In the corner behind the door, loomed a sort of metal sculpture, with something that looked like a steam train whistle attached. The whistle part moved up and down making alternately huffing and wheezing sounds. To Hermione, the noisy monstrosity seemed like the last thing even Dumbledore would want in a library.

"What does that machine do?"

"Arcane knowledge is the one thing you can take with you. It seems Dumbledore absconded with that bit. I do not want to touch it to find out."

"Where are all the books?"

"There is only the one, I'm afraid."

"Don't tell me. It's a different book every time you come in here?"

"No it is always the same book until it is read. Then it changes. However, it seems to be a different book for everyone."

"Can I make a request?"

"You are most welcome to try."

Hermione walked up to the book. It was small and quite thin with a white leather cover embossed in a flowering vine pattern. There was no writing at all on the front or the binding. On the back in small gold lettering were the initials A.P.W.B. D.

"I want to read about magical parasites native to the Great Lakes region of North America."

Hermione opened the book to the title page. "Making Magic: A Squib's Guide To Ten Pin Bowling, oh for Merlin's sake!"

"It was worth a try. At least your book is in English. Mine was an insipid romance in Mermish. I read it using a translation spell from the pointless introduction to the last painful page of the epilogue on the off chance that there might have been something useful in it."

"There wasn't though was there."

"What do you think? My next book is a history of socks."

"Perhaps it is a trigger spell sir. Maybe you have to, I don't know, knit a pillow first before it gives you the book you want."

"A yarn for some yarn? Yes, I think you are definitely on to something there, Miss Granger. Do feel free to test that theory and let me know the results."

"There must be some trick to using the book. That or it's perfectly useless."

"If there was some trick to it Dumbledore took that secret with him too."

"Well the Room of Requirement is far better than this."

"That is where I came across the story of Nanabozho."

"Would you like to come with me?"

"Am I required?"

"Yes, if you'd like a change of scenery and are in the mood for some company."

"I suppose could write comments on second year essays every bit as scathing in there as I can in my office."

"Great! Then I'll meet you there, Professor."

"What shall I do about your Kneazle?"

"Just toss him out. Tell him to go home."

"Are you fond of it at all?"

"No. Yes. I don't know anymore. We've been horrid to each other. At first he was waking me up at all hours. Then I started tossing pillows at him. Now he hisses every time he sees me."

"This bud of domestic bliss blossomed after the battle; I take it?"

"Just in the last week or so."

"It is the thing in you to which your Kneazle is reacting."

"Do you think so?"

"Of course, Miss Granger. Kneazles are very clever creatures with senses far keener than ours. Perhaps it has been trying to alert you to your problem. I will continue to keep it for you since its presence is a distraction."

"I can't ask you to do that, sir."

"You did not ask me to do anything. I have captured a hostage that I may be willing to exchange for proper ransom."

"For my solution to my parasite problem for example?"

"That form of currency might be acceptable."

"You really do prefer the role of villain. Don't you, sir."

"It is your Kneazle's good fortune that I settle for menacing anti-hero."

"That's everyone's very good fortune, I'd say.

-Warning ! If you review you are in grave danger of making my day!


	10. The Ratcatcher's Ball

I tried really hard not to make you wait until the new year because I love you so much!

BedtimeStory- Thank you! Yes! I'm meandering a bit. Too many ideas. Don't feel sorry for Hermione! I am not that cruel.

BrokenPoet12- Am sending Severus will Spell-o-tape to stick you back together, dear. Poets are always worth fixing. Happy you like it! Thanks!

toostupidforyou- So glad you are still enjoying it! Thanks for letting me know!

KellyRoxton- You must be a Gryffindor to scoff at that sort of danger just to review! Thank you and merriest of Christmases to you and yours, my dear. Much joy to you in the new year.

Rageful Jewel- Glad you thought it was a good idea! Thanks for your review!

queenanneus- and I love that you mentioned it! Thanks!

BeneGesserit Witch- Hmm, I like to dance in the woods unless it's too cold out. Longer chapter just for you! I think it might be the longest chapter so far though I haven't really kept track.. Merriments of the season right back, my sister.

duj- I absolutely love your poem! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

little beloved- I know how you feel. When it happens it happens in a big way. I promise. Thanks!

anonymous- So happy I could amuse you! I do agree 8 needs work. Will see what I can do to rework a slow it a bit. Thanks so much!

Squiggles.candi- You certainly did! I don't think I have any great talent for swearing but will see what I can do. Do you think Hermione should swear all the time? At Severus or just in general? I can't even remember being her age, dear. I'm pretty sure I was hallucinating most of it. Thanks for reviewing!

Mari Skyrin-Sarker- I think I have a bit of Hermione about me. Will do what I can! Happy Christmas and all other holidays to you dear! Best wishes for the new year.

And to tak- Very very special thanks! There is no such thing as too picky! I can not tell you how much I appreciate you for catching that mistake. I really do want to make this story as good as it can be for all you lovely readers. I did correct it. Thank you for your help!

I've said it before and will say it again. This would not be half as good without you, my wonderful reviewers. Many of you have selflessly stepped in to beta all manner of my mistakes clean out of this story. I bat my eyelashes at each and every one of you. Look! I write for you too!

The Rat Catchers' Ball

Hermione threw herself into researching her condition. Apart from the time they had spent together in the Room of Requirement with her reading and him grading, Hermione saw little of Snape. Occasionally they ran across each other in Snape's office when she was getting a book. Apart from saying hello and a shared moment over a single quick cup of tea their interactions were minimal.

Hermione managed to catch Poppy without patients in the infirmary on Friday. She questioned her extensively about the tests they had run on her and those results. She learned precious little more than what Snape had told her to begin with and nothing particularly useful.

Most of Hermione's time was spent alone in the Room of Requirement that unlike Dumbledore's library always produced books that were at least somewhat relevant. On Saturday afternoon, at the end of nearly two days of solid research she knew far more about the Great Lakes, native American folklore, magical parasites and parasites in general, and next to nothing more about her particular condition. She was in fact astounded that Snape had been able to identify the parasite at all.

She considered her options. There were other Wizarding libraries that might have useful information. There had to be wizards in the Great Lakes region who knew more about the things. She could petition the Ministry for access to books confiscated from Malfoy for all the good it would do her. That would entail making her condition public which she had no desire to do. She expected the Ministry would find a reason to deny her request anyway. She could consult with Muggle physicians and Obliviate them after. She might be able to find one with Wizard relatives whom she could trust.

Again she considered how useful some organization of Muggle-born wizards might be. Previous attempts to organize generally caused panic at the Ministry and among the Wizard-born population in general. The last time anyone had attempted it was in the mid-sixties. Some wizards still blamed those organizers for the rise of Voldemort's popularity. The more she had looked into it the more she had realized that even Muggle-borns did not want the very small very crowded boat rocked.

She thought about what she knew already. It needed her. It required her emotions. It could not live in Muggles so clearly body heat was insufficient for its long term survival. She wondered what about a Wizard's emotions the thing found appetizing. Could her brain chemistry differ so much from her own parents? She wondered if these parasites could live in Squibs.

Perhaps it had nothing to do with brain chemistry. In Wizards, emotions can be considered a sort of potential or latent magic. Many spells require specific emotions to fuel or trigger them. A child's first magic often grows out of some strong need or an emotional reaction to a situation. Perhaps the parasite was only converting one kind of magic into another. At any rate, she thought it might be possible to find a way to starve the thing to death. She also had hope of finding or even creating a spell that could target and kill it outright. That would definitely be risky. Perhaps she could have it surgically removed?

She just knew that Snape would hate that option though he would probably be more open minded toward Muggle medicine than most Wizards. How could he have formulated more than one solution on no more knowledge than what she knew of the problem now? Of course he did know more than her about potions, about magic, about thousands of things probably. Hermione glanced at her wristwatch and decided she wouldn't be getting Crookshanks back today.

When she had showered, untangled, dried, and defrizzed her hair Hermione dressed in her deep purple velvet dress robe form-fitting enough to show off her figure but not so low cut to look tarty. It was probably more stylish for winter but she didn't care and knew Snape wouldn't. She dropped her wand and a small money pouch both for emergencies into the long thin pocket hidden in its folds. She used a wandless spell to get her hair up leaving just a few curls to frame her face. She applied light makeup the Muggle way, enough to keep her from looking washed out and not enough to look unnatural. She wore a three strand pearl choker and matching earrings and left her watch at home.

Snape met Hermione at his office at seven thirty looking clean, crisp, and elegant in his heavy black well-tailored silk. He had even washed his hair again.

"You look wonderful, Professor."

"Shall we?"

She supposed it was lucky that she hadn't been fishing for a compliment.

They used his office floo to arrive in Hogsmeade and then apparated to the Ministry from there. It seemed everyone in Wizarding Britain had turned out for the event. The hall was packed. They had a choice of tables being that she and Snape both had received invitations. Had they picked Hermione's table Snape would be sitting next to Fudge's wife who was less bearable than Umbridge when sober and not much better drunk. Hermione would have been seated next to Swinburne Fogstreet, one of the richest, perhaps the fattest, and certainly the most obnoxious of any wizard in Britain. The only man in the room more notorious in general was Snape. Poor Minerva got stuck sitting next to Fudge from whom she faced away from talking instead to Filius. Of course they chose Snape's table. It was so far from the front it was hardly in the room at all and had much better company. Hermione sat next to Snape with Arthur Weasley then Molly on her right. On Snape's left was the stunningly beautiful Loredona Zabini, Blaise's date for the evening as well as his distant cousin here visiting from Florence.

Dinner was served. Fred and George who were table hopping throughout whispered to Hermione one in each ear that she should give dessert a wide pass. They explained in their stereo twin-speak that the one piece they spiked may have gone astray. Hermione passed the information on to Snape and to the rest of their table after the twins were safely out of Molly's line of sight. Molly turned a fair imitation of the color of Hermione's dress with every vein in her head visibly throbbing. Arthur did his best to keep her calm by promising to help her hunt them down after the ceremony.

Desert turned out to be a rather delicious looking slice of chocolate torte at least fourteen pieces of which went untouched. Hermione didn't bother to watch for the result of the twins' sense of humor. She had no doubt it would be hard to ignore when it did manifest.

After dinner was cleared, awards were presented posthumously from Order of Merlin Third Class up to First Class. After all recipients in a category were named each name was called again so that someone might accept the award. Ron received along with Dumbledore and many others the Order of Merlin Second Class. Arthur and Molly tearfully accepted it. When Harry won the only Order of Merlin First Class awarded posthumously Arthur and Molly tearfully returned to the podium. There was no one else to accept it for him.

Hermione was absorbed in the moment and in her memories. She suddenly sensed that Snape had grown tense by her side. That was when she realized- not a single fallen Slytherin, not Pansy, not Millicent, not even Professor Slughorn had been honored. She turned and glanced at him. His eyes met hers. Nothing in his expression betrayed any emotion what so ever.

Next, awards were presented to the survivors Third Class first. Again, no Slytherin received one. Nor was there a Slytherin among those presented the Order of Merlin, Second Class. For the Order of Merlin, First Class three names were called. Seamus, Hermione and Luna. Hermione almost blind with rage stood and stalked up to the podium while Fudge was still pontificating. She magically amplified her voice.

"How dare you stand here blathering about courage and honor and other virtues that you, personally, know nothing about!"

Fudge recoiled from the podium as if stricken. Hermione couldn't help but notice that the man was sprouting whiskers.

"For those of you who don't know me I'm Hermione Granger. You needn't bother to call my name again, Minister, as I find I am unable to accept an Order of Merlin, First Class from a Minister too blind to recognize the valor and sacrifices of -all those- who fought for the Light at great personal cost." As she spoke cameras everywhere clicked away. It was so quiet between her pauses that she could hear the Press quills scribbling. "Since you choose not to mention those from Slytherin House whose actions during the battles distinguished them, I will do so now. Professor Horace Slughorn, twice Head of Slytherin House, lost his life defending the students of Hogwarts from the forces of Voldemort at the Battle of the Great Hall. Thanks to his efforts to protect the first and second years he was that battle's lone casualty. Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode, both seventh years of Slytherin House, fought beside me during the Main Battle. Their actions were brave and honorable. They lost their lives helping to free the world from the tyranny of Voldemort and his minions. Professor Sylvinia Sinestra, alumnus of Slytherin House and currently my Astronomy Professor here present tonight, was severely wounded in the Battle of the Gate while helping Professor Vector defend and repair damaged wards. Due in part to her brave efforts, the wards held preventing Voldemort and his Death Eaters from apparating at will inside Hogwarts castle and its grounds. Would you please stand, Professor Sinestra?"

Sinestra stood and waved to Hermione before sitting down again. The crowd applauded the professor enthusiastically. Some of the Slytherins and her fellow professors including the Headmistress, Vector, and Snape stood while applauding. When the applause faded Hermione continued.

"Blaise Zabini also sitting in this audience is a seventh year Slytherin. He chose the side of Light according to the dictates of his conscience. Blaise fought against Voldemort and his elite Death Eaters with valor and honor and all those other virtues that you like to spout about, Minister." Fudge was looking decidedly rodent-like now and seemed far more concerned about his appearance which he fretted over with a hand mirror than anything that Hermione was saying. "He very nearly died due to injuries he received in the Main Battle. Blaise will you please stand?"

Blaise stood. The applause in the Hall was thunderous and seemed to last forever. When it finally died down Blaise nodded to Hermione almost imperceptibly then sat again.

"Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master and twice and current Head of Slytherin House, deserves this medal that you are trying to give me as much as any person living or dead. His actions are as responsible as Harry Potter's magic for the downfall of Voldemort. Professor Snape risked his life for more years than some of us here in this hall have been alive and suffered great personal hardships to provide intelligence information about Voldemort and Death Eater activity. Without that intelligence, I doubt Voldemort ever would have been defeated. His spying on behalf of former Headmaster Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix allowed us to prepare to defend Hogwarts from what Voldemort meant to be a sneak attack. Without Professor Snape's warning many more would have died that day. Professor Snape also fought in the front line defending Harry Potter from Voldemort and his elite forces during the Main Battle. Harry Potter himself called Professor Snape the bravest man he had ever known," and the biggest bastard but that was a given, "Blaise, Seamus, Luna, and I would not be here present tonight as we would not be alive today had it not been for the valiant actions of Professor Snape before, during, and after the Main Battle. Professor Snape, will you please stand?"

Snape did stand and then sat again almost immediately. The applause was deafening. It did not stop. Eventually Snape stood again took a slight bow and sat down again. The crowd went wild then finally started to quiet down.

"In conclusion, you can just toss my Order of Merlin, First Class into the rubbish bin, Minister. It is worthless as a symbol if you choose to award and withhold it to suit your own petty political ends. Despite your best efforts the contributions and sacrifices of these Slytherins will not be forgotten. Remember that you as Minister of Magic are as much a symbol as this Order of Merlin. When you do not carry out the duties expected of you with honor and fairness you take away the meaning of your own office making yourself every bit as worthless to the Wizarding World as that bit of metal is to me."

Hermione left the podium and her Order of Merlin, First Class to much applause and cheering and took her seat next to Severus who leaned over to whisper.

"It is gold. You could have changed it into lead."

Fudge left the hall looking exactly like the big rat he was tail and all. His wife watched him go then slid a flask out of her cleavage and gulped the contents down. Arthur Weasley stepped up to the podium and called Seamus Finnigan to accept his Order of Merlin First Class.

"First, I'd like to say that I agree with everything Hermione just said. Blaise, Pansy and Millicent fought more or less beside Hermione, Luna, and I on that battlefield. They all deserve this every bit as much as I do. Truth be told, the whole lot of us were ducking behind Professor Snape. Blaise and I would have both died out there too except for Professor Snape who with Hermione and Luna to help patched us both up long before a mediwizard or anyone else ever wandered along. I guess what I'm saying is, Gryffindor House is about nothing if it's not about honoring bravery. If it wouldn't offend them all too much I'd like to say that you Slytherins, when it suits you, fight just as bravely as any of us Gryffindors do. Oh yeah, and here's one more for the rubbish bin."

More applause broke out. Many in the crowd were cheering and hooting now in a most undignified manner.

"It seems you have started a trend," said Snape, who was now looking ever so slightly amused.

Next Arthur called Luna Lovegood. She was wearing a colorful psychedelic dress robe and had pansies, shells, ribbons, and feathers braided into a looming beehive topping her head.

"I'll bet this is going to be interesting," Hermione whispered back.

"Hi fellow she-wizards and he-wizards. I am accepting this award but not for myself. I'm offering it to the highest bidder in a silent auction. All proceeds will be start up funding for the Pansy Parkinson Gay and Lesbian Educational Fund. Pansy was my friend, my lover, and my spouse. We were married at Hogwarts by Albus Dumbledore with Millicent Bulstrode and Blaise Zabini as witnesses right before the final battle. Pansy's family disowned her posthumously when they found out about us right before they were all rounded up as rogue Death Eaters. It struck me that someone like Pansy who had lived might have had a hard time finding money for Uni. It was our dream to find and study magical xeno-creatures together. I think she'd like it if this Order of Merlin which is as much hers as mine could help others in a similar situation to reach their dreams. If you are interested in bidding on this Order of Merlin, First Class or just want to contribute some spare galleons to the Pansy Parkinson Gay and Lesbian Educational Fund you can contact me or my dad at the Quibbler. Thanks for lending an ear. Peace, Light and goodnight, everybody."

"Tell me that you are ready to leave now."

"The inmates have taken over the asylum, Professor Snape, at least for one night. Have one dance with me first?"

"Very well, Miss Granger."

While they were making their way to the floor a reporter from the Prophet stepped in front of them.

"Hermione! Hermione! Are you running against Fudge in the next election?"

"Certainly not, I'm seventeen years old. According to Wizarding Law those under forty can't run. Arthur Weasley has my full support for Minister of Magic."

"And her name is Miss Granger."

"Is it true you and Snape are also secretly married?"

"No. Professor Snape is my Potions professor."

"You misspelled potions and are in my way."

The reporter glanced up at Snape's expression for the first time then ducked his head and scurried off.

The music started. Severus took her hand and lead her onto the floor. She had never danced with anyone who seemed more at ease doing it. He held her lightly, lead her confidently, and stepped gracefully. Best of all since he was so tall and imposing the other dancers naturally gave them more room.

Just as the music ended a small crowd of strange men of ages ranging roughly from hers to Dumbledore's materialized all asking Hermione for dances. Snape glared at them menacingly.

"Sorry gentlemen, I am leaving now with my date." Hermione said and took Snape's arm. He covered her hand gently with his and guided her through the crowd.

Once outside the Ministry, they apparated to Hogsmeade and flooed back to Snape's office.

"I didn't intend to make a scene tonight, sir. I hope I didn't embarrass you."

"I can not say that I have ever enjoyed myself more while in the presence of any Fudge. Do have a seat, Miss Granger. Swiss absinthe, Glen Morangie, Fire-whiskey, Spirits of Walking Death, cognac, elderberry wine?"

"I'll have what you're having so long as it's a double."

He handed her a tumbler of Glen Morangie.

"Here's to your efforts on behalf of Slytherin House. Cheers, they are appreciated."

"You seem to be taking this whole thing well," Hermione said as Snape took his seat.

"It is no more and no less than I have come to expect from the Ministry. Ultimately, awards are like House Points. They do not matter."

"At least Luna's might. I think it is terribly clever of her to auction it off for a good cause."

"What on earth is a magical xeno-creature?"

"Best I can tell she's talking about creatures that don't exist."

"Ah."

"Perhaps I should tell Luna about my parasite. It almost qualifies."

"I did warn you that there was not much information."

"I'm sorry I brought it up. I really don't want to talk about that tonight, if it's all the same to you, sir. Did you know they were married?"

"I gave one of the brides away as did Flitwick."

"I don't think anyone from our House even knew they were seeing each other. I take it this happened after Draco was sent to Azkaban?"

"Before that. It seemed Miss Parkinson came to the conclusion that she was no happier in their relationship than Draco."

"Did all of Slytherin House know?"

"Eventually, but it took Miss Brocklehurst's mother to inform Mrs. Parkinson. The Brocklehurst family produces infamous gossips."

"Maybe that's why she felt more like a Slytherin than a Parkinson because Slytherin House protected her and accepted Luna."

"That is my best guess. Why do you think Miss Lovegood kept their romance a secret from her Gryffindor friends?"

"As batty as she acts Luna is smart. We wouldn't have been good about it."

"Because she chose a witch or a Slytherin?"

"No one would have cared had Pansy been from another House."

"Yet you did consider how your housemates might feel about my escorting you to the Ministry tonight."

"I don't care what they think, Professor. I'd prefer it if they would shun me, honestly"

"It seems unlike you to isolate yourself."

"Does it? Before I came to Hogwarts and met Harry and Ron I didn't have any friends. I never minded being on my own. I think being alone is better than being surrounded with people with nothing in common."

"Beyond being Gryffindors, what do you feel you had in common with Mr. Potter or Mr. Weasley?"

"We were all loners in our way. Ron never had friends aside from his family. I told you about Harry. Maybe we were all just desperate for a bit of acceptance from each other. Harry and Ron were the first students I ever met who never cared when I ruined a bell curve."

"Hardly a shock given their dedication to study."

"It was more than that. They accepted me for who I am. I'm not really sure how Ron and I happened. It was nice having someone who felt the way he did about me. I always knew it wouldn't work out. I thought he should have dated Viktor Krum. They were both mad about chess and Quidditch."

"You loved Mr. Weasley as a friend?"

"Yes, and not enough to settle down and become Molly Weasley for him."

"Not even Trelawney on her worst day could envision that future for you."

"She might. I'm not exactly her favorite person."

"It would not be me who beat you out for that dubious honor. Had I suffered a paper cut every time she predicted my imminent demise I would have bled to death the first month of our acquaintance."

"She was the same with Harry. Merlin! You should have read his homework for that blood thirsty faker. He used to sit around the common room every day trying to think up a nasty way to kill himself off that he hadn't used in some previous prediction. They were all horrible. About a week before the battle he predicted that Voldemort would throw him in a giant bread slicer at a Muggle bake factory and that bits of him would get sold all over the UK. He said Trelawney really liked that one."

"The Boy-Who-Lived as pre-packaged consumption for the masses is telling imagery on the part of Mr. Potter- and bread no less. I only can wonder if he were confirming a Christ complex or making fun of one."

"I think you're right. I always wondered why Harry stayed in that class. I suppose it would make sense if it served some psychological benefit for him."

"Perhaps."

"Would you like some help stocking the infirmary tomorrow, sir?"

"Poppy has not requested potions. The rate of injury by stupidity must be down this week."

"Perhaps that means we are all finally getting more clever, sir."

"More likely, there will be twice the average number of accidents next week."

"Is the glass never half full?."

"No, and our glasses are empty. Would you care for another?"

"I'd like to but should probably get some sleep. At any rate, I'd like to walk out of here under my own power."

"May I offer you an Occlumency lesson tomorrow?"

"What time, sir?"

"After dinner?"

"I'll see you then. Thank you again for escorting me tonight."

In his last gallant act as her escort Snape opened and held the door for her. "Should you find yourself in need of an escort in the future I do hope you will keep me in mind, Miss Granger."

Hermione couldn't help but smile. From someone else those words could constitute no more than empty courtesy. From Snape, it sounded like a declaration of undying affection.

"Thank you, sir. I will. Don't worry. I won't be receiving invitations from the Ministry any time soon."

"I rather had counted on that fact."

"Goodnight, Professor Snape."

Ho Ho Ho! Happy seasonal observances! I ask for nothing. This is my love gift to you.


	11. Death and Bad Poetry

To all my sweet, beautiful, generous, intelligent, kind, and witty reviewers- bless you. I don't know what I'd do without you: Rhonda21- (Thanks! Your wait is over!) Kelly Roxton- ( I completely agree! While I have known some extraordinary women who settled for less than they deserved, I can not fathom why JK finds the prospect of life with Ron ideal for Hermione.) toostupidforyou- (Thank you! I'm so sorry it took so long.) Bedtime Story (Thanks! Glad you found it so!) gal-from-the-'hood- (Thanks! Hope you had lovely holidays. I'm fond of Luna, too. She is definitely one of the more interesting students at Hogwarts. I wish JK would give us a bit more of her.) Squiggles.Candi- (Hope you had a Happy Christmauka too! Will endeavor to remind Snape that he is male. I think he supresses an awful lot of desires.) Ocean Fish- I wish you many happy sighs. Thanks for your kind words!) duj- ( As always you are correct. I will fix it if I can.) Guinn Pern (Thanks times two! Hope your trip abroad was lovely. Happy you like the story so far!) Mari Skyrin-Sarker ( I see her as unable to abide injustice. SPEW made me love Hermione. I also think she needed an outlet for stored up anger. The Ministry has had it coming, in my opinion.) Minnnie- (Thanks! So happy you liked her speech!) little beloved- (Thank you! Best wishes for this new year to you too, dear.) CareBearErin (Thanks times two to you too! I'm thrilled you like my parasite, Luna's marriage and Hermione at the gala!) Corky42 ( Happy New Year right back at you! Thank you. I'm so pleased you like it!) Bellegeste- ( Thank you! Please forgive my trespasses. I'm one of those sick twisties who find every word canon Snape ever said completely hilarious. So happy you liked Crooks and Occlumency- more of both to come.) frenchvanilla- (Thank you! I anxiously present you more! I hope it pleases you.) Outematamakin- Thank you! It's great to hear from you. I'm blushing.)

Special thanks go out to Lemon Head on AFF who asked me to explain the meaning of Ratcatcher's Ball, since Lemon Head had heard the phrase but was unsure of its meaning and could not find intellectual solace on the internet. I figured I should make good use of author's notes in case any one else wondered. Here goes!

-A/N- The main reason I used that title for reasons beyond the Minister being exposed both by the twins' prank and by Hermione speech is a personal one- when my mother would dress us up for a visit or an event, she'd say," There now. You are fit for the Ratcatcher's Ball!" So of course when I was little I always thought the Ratcatcher's Ball must be a very good thing.

For hundreds of years, ratcatching was a profession in much of Europe wereby a common person could gain wealth and social standing. People who were good at catching rats were generally respected despite the unsavory side of their job- much like lawyers are today. There really were Ratcatchers' Guilds which held annual balls.

Later the term was used in British society in a derogatory sense. This was how my mother jokingly used it. Someone trying to get above their station in life, a social climber, a gold digger, a member of the nouveau riche, was fit for the Ratcatcher's Ball and for nothing else by implication. The Wizarding World seems to reflect that aspect of social inelasticity.

Later still, Ratcatcher became a term for someone who had done well in war and had trouble adjusting to peacetime, or someone who had done something necessary like spying during wartime which was later held against him. Therefore in my story both Hermione and Severus fall into this category albeit for different reasons. There may be other meanings but since I am unaware of those, alternate meanings did not figure into my title. Still if you know of any or have any corrections to my understanding of the history, I'd love to hear from you!

But really I love to hear from anyone for any reason at all. This is for you.

Discovering the Hidden Heart

Part Eleven

Death and Bad Poetry

"Sir, do you have a few minutes?"

"I do. In fact I have nearly an hour before I am expected at a staff meeting. Do help yourself to tea if you care for a cup."

Hermione poured herself a tea and freshened his cup. She sat across from his desk on a small wooden chair, uncomfortable on purpose, of that she had no doubt.

"You could always get Mr. Filch to hammer a few nails up through this seat."

He transfigured the chair into a deeper padded version.

"It is meant to dissuade less pleasant company."

"I think I'm ready to get Crookshanks back."

"What do you have in mind?"

"I considered Occlumency. I think it might take months or even years to learn what I'd need. I'm not willing to wait. I want to start immediately using various potions to repress my emotions, even anger. Just because it prefers other emotions doesn't mean it can't feed on that. I want to starve my parasite to death, sir."

Snape considered her for a moment. He set his cup and saucer down on his desk and steepled his fingers under his chin.

"Which potions did you have in mind?"

"I wanted your opinion. I'm considering seven but have no idea how they might react when taken together or if there are better combinations to achieve the desired effect. I was thinking of Grief Tonic, Foe-Forgive Potion, Magarets's Solution-"

"Magaret's Solution causes irreversible sterility."

"Makes me wonder what Magaret's problem was. Anyway, Magaret's Solution leaves me no worse off than I am now, sir."

"Nonsense. The parasite merely acts as a magical contraceptive. Magaret's Solution would damage your reproductive organs. Also, Magaret's problem was a love potion with no known antidote slipped into her wine by her own brother."

"I imagine quite a number of potions were created out of suffering and sheer desperation."

"Most of them in fact. The greatest Potions Master of all time is self-interest. Tell me why you believe that emotional starvation is a viable option for dealing with your parasite."

"While it can use body heat as a sort of dietary supplement, it can't survive on that alone or could just as well use Muggles as hosts, sir. I think it's an illusion that this thing creates magic. My theory is that it lives by converting one sort of magic into another, specifically the potential magic in a wizard's emotions into raw magic. It does the same thing that we do by forming intentions but through its conversion it receives some sort of magical by-product that it requires as a nutrient."

"Why do you assume that body heat is the only source that it can use as a dietary supplement? What if it decides to eat your brain or your liver or other vital part of you while denied your emotions?"

"That's just a chance I'll have to take."

"Are you willing to take such a risk, just to be free of it?"

"I'm willing to do what ever it takes to be free. I don't want this thing inside of me. Regardless of my rather embarrassing red food reaction, I am a Gryffindor, sir."

"I never doubted your bravery. I had feared the parasite might weaken your resolve. Allow me offer you an alternative that does not involve the use of Magaret's Solution."

Snape reached into a pocket and pulled out a small round bottle of clear amber viscous liquid that would have reminded Hermione of rubber glue if it were not radiating magic.

"What is that?"

"Thanatos Elixir."

"Thana- Death in a Bottle?"

"That is another name."

"Sir, Thanatos Elixir is illegal to use, brew or even possess."

"You are quite right, Miss Granger. The more correct term might be Azkaban in a Bottle, since the mere brewing and possession of this substance can not result in death."

"I take it you are not suggesting that I kill myself with that."

"That is exactly what I am suggesting. Tell me what you know of death."

"I know that death is a process. When the brain becomes oxygen starved, the brain cells break down. In the case of death by heart attack for example, brain death occurs roughly three minutes after the heart stops beating."

"Correct. The rest of the cells of the human body take far longer to die. Thanatos Elixir was first used in the fourteen hundreds as a poison. About four centuries later, a curious side effect was discovered -the elixir continues to oxygenate the brain magically, thus halting cell damage for a full half hour after all vital signs, including brain activity, cease. Not too long after that discovery, an antidote was developed. Providing that the antidote is administered within half an hour of your taking Thanatos, you will revive from death having suffered no ill effects."

"Sir, if I'm not mistaken that antidote only works occasionally."

"Like every true antidote, it works when it is brewed correctly and administered on time. The reputation and legal standing of Thanatos Elixir have suffered, because there are always more wizards about willing to administer Thanatos than are capable of brewing its antidote."

"Is it a difficult antidote to brew?"

"Yes. Part of the difficulty is that it must be brewed after Death in a Bottle has been ingested, as the effected blood of the person who ingested Thanatos Elixir is one of its key ingredients."

"How much of the half hour is required to brew it?"

"I can brew it in under twenty six minutes."

"I still don't see where you are going with this."

"A twenty six minute brewing time provides us a rather large window of opportunity. Before administering the antidote, I will have four minutes to lure the parasite out of you by offering myself as an alternate host while you, for all intents and purposes, are dead. The parasite's will to survive is strong. You were in sporadic contact with Malfoy's body for a fraction of that time."

"What are your other solutions to my problem?"

"I assure you that this is the safest for you, therefore the best solution."

"Tell me your second choice."

"That would involve the kidnapping and later Obliviation of a Muggle surgeon, with no guarantee of a successful removal, your continued survival, or a future for me outside of Azkaban since I would murder the physician who killed you."

"Sir, please don't murder a Muggle on my account."

"Fine."

"Don't do anything worse to one, either."

"I can not promise that."

"You don't want to keep this parasite. Do you?"

"I do not secretly covet your parasite, Miss Granger. As I told you in the infirmary, I can purge it safely with simple potions before it has the chance to take hold of a new host."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes."

"I hate this idea."

"I will brew the antidote in time. I have done so in the past."

"That is the only aspect of your plan that doesn't worry me, sir. Thanatos Elixir is Dark Magic."

"I am aware of the Ministry's views. If it helps, know that I do not agree with that decision. Neither did Albus Dumbledore. To quote him, 'there are worse things than Death in a Bottle.' He said that just before I poured Thanatos Elixir down his throat."

"So that's how you defeated the Unbreakable Vow that you made to Narcissa Malfoy!"

"Yes, I administered the Thanatos to a willing Dumbledore only days after I made that vow. The moment I killed him, the spell was broken as the purpose of the vow had been served. We thought it best to keep our method secret, due to the potion's legal status."

"What did Harry see that night on the tower?"

"That particular incident took months of planning and practice. It involved complex spells, split second timing, the creation of a horcrux site from my memory and the manipulation of no fewer than fifty people. What Mr. Potter saw was a display of theatrics, a Dumbledore production. Mr. Potter was the intended audience."

"Why? It devastated him! Why would Dumbledore need Harry to see that?"

"Miss Granger, do you think I was the only spy that Voldemort had at Hogwarts?"

"Who?"

"Harry Potter was Voldemort's favorite spy. What he saw, Voldemort could see in his mind. This went far beyond Legilimency. They were joined by an accidental mental link formed on the day that Lily was murdered. Curiously, though he was bumbling along not knowing what he was doing as usual, Mr. Potter learned to access that connection long before Voldemort was aware of it. That was the source of his Parseltongue and who knows what else. I suspected the connection since the day of Lockhart's dueling demonstration when Mr. Potter spoke to the snake that Mr. Malfoy conjured. I verified the connection at the same time that Voldemort became aware of it, during Harry Potter's first Occlumency lesson. Quite suddenly, all three of us were in one of Mr. Potter's memories. I have experienced very little in life that I found more unnerving. Voldemort and I were aware of one another. In fact he was ranting at me the whole time. For some reason, Potter was oblivious to Voldemort's presence. That link must have been such a natural state of being for him that he tuned Voldemort out like a constant odor. Dumbledore decided that Mr. Potter could not be informed. If Potter knew, Voldemort would know that he knew, and that I had told him. Also, if Potter knew, he would be less useful to Voldemort, therefore more endangered. Dumbledore decided we could use the situation to our advantage. After that lesson, much of what Mr. Potter was shown and told was meant specifically for Voldemort's misinformation. The pensieve incident was staged to give me a convenient excuse to end his lessons. The night in question served several purposes. Draco miraculously fixed the cabinet admitting Death Eaters when Dumbledore lifted his Unfixable Curse. Draco was the first purpose. Dumbledore was as keen as I to save him. We should have let him burn. The second purpose of the evening was to convince Voldemort that our side was still searching for remaining horcruxes when in fact they had already been destroyed. The third purpose was to prove my loyalty to Voldemort. I long had been suspected of being a traitor to Voldemort due in no small part to allegations made years ago by one of Voldemort's most loyal supporters, Regulus Black, idiot brother of Sirius. Coincidentally Regulus Black and I were the only two people other than Voldemort who knew the location of the horcrux site that Dumbledore showed to Potter. Though Voldemort killed him for treachery on the basis of evidence that I manufactured, he never completely trusted me. All of Regulus' accusations were nothing more than wild speculation. Still his allegations were true. As he suspected, I was loyal to Dumbledore and was a much better Occlumens than Voldemort was a Legilimens. However his baseless accusations did not appeal to Voldemort's enormous vanity. Like his brother, he was full of the Black Family pride and seemed oblivious to his mistake. I exploited the rift it caused between them through Lucius, who just happened upon the evidence that condemned Regulus to a much deserved fate. Lucius was nearly as unimportant to Voldemort as Regulus then, and was desperate to move up in the ranks. I knew he would not hesitate to reveal a traitor, even one he considered a friend. After Voldemort killed Regulus, he always wondered if he'd killed the right traitor. The letter at the horcrux site as well as rumors circulating about Regulus' change of heart were meant to allay any remaining suspicions Voldemort had about my loyalty. The most important purpose of the evening was to convince Voldemort that I killed Dumbledore. The act cemented my position as Voldemort's favorite and provided Dumbledore protection from further assassination attempts. It also gave Albus the chance to attend his own funeral polyjuiced to pass as his brother. He thoroughly enjoyed it. That dangerous little performance on the tower provided Dumbledore and I needed freedom away from Hogwarts and the opportunity to engineer Voldemort's overdue retirement."

"You said Harry's link to Voldemort was an accidental one. Accidental how?"

"It was the result of four conflicting, very powerful spells. Two of those spells were cast by Lily. Two by Voldemort. Unknown to Voldemort, Lily had placed on her child a protection charm of her own devising. Basically it's purpose was to reflect any harmful spell back to the caster. The charm worked once then had to be recast. She tested that charm on me while we were still at school. Sirius Black ended the day in the infirmary with the worst case of boils Pomfrey had even seen. Though she and James Potter had brushes, Voldemort had never met Lily face to face before that day. She was a very powerful witch. He was immediately intrigued by her power. He gave Lily a choice. She could have abandon her child to death and lived to serve him. Anyone who knew her would have known it was no choice at all. However, because of his offer, for magical purposes, her death constituted a sacrifice. That sacrifice was a second spell, one which survived Lily further protecting her child. At the same time, Voldemort was attempting to make his sixth and final horcrux of an object, ironically the engagement ring that the Muggle Riddle had given to his sainted mother. Because of the prophesy, he decided to use Harry Potter's death to fuel it. Voldemort never liked loose ends. It did not suit him that there were two children who fulfilled all the requirements of the prophesy. Voldemort designed a variation on the Dark Mark just for the purpose of marking Neville Longbottom as his equal. Can you imagine? He chose Longbottom because he was a pure-blood and therefore a more worthy adversary in Voldemort's eyes. By targeting the Potters, Voldemort was attempting in his own words, to kill the spare. When Voldemort cast Avada Kedavra, the fourth spell, he created a magical anomaly, a confusion of powerful modern and ancient magics. All four spells worked though perhaps not exactly as they were intended. The child's survival, Mr. Potter's horcrux scar, their mental link, and Voldemort's near death experience were the four results of those combined spells."

"Harry's scar was a horcrux?"

"No Miss Granger, Harry Potter was a horcrux, inadvertently made by Voldemort and used immediately, and therefore destroyed for horcrux purposes. As a baby, Mr. Potter was both Voldemort's destruction as well as his savior. Had any one of those four spells failed, Harry Potter would have died that day. Voldemort would have survived Lily's reflection charm anyway as he had five other Horcruxes standing between him and his death. Had one of those other five horcruxes been the one to save Voldemort, Harry Potter would have remained a horcrux and very likely would have had to forfeit his life in order to destroy Voldemort. Harry Potter, like the ring that Dumbledore was fond of wearing, survived once the horcrux inside was destroyed. Like Slytherin's ring, only a lightning bolt scar remained to mark Mr. Potter as a former horcrux as well as Voldemort's self chosen arch nemesis, all in perfect accord with the prophesy. After that experience, Voldemort chose to ignore the spare, much to the continuing good health of Neville Longbottom. Too bad Voldemort's superstitious nature did not extend the same protection to Cedric Diggory."

"Why did Voldemort stop at six horcruxes?"

"He was under the impression that one seventh of his soul was the least amount required to ensure successful return. He would not chance dividing his soul further in fear of defeating his purpose."

"You didn't have anything to do with his forming that belief, did you, sir?"

"I did not. Slughorn deserves that credit."

"Do you think he could have divided his soul further?"

"I think it is safe to say that Voldemort did not start with an over abundance of soul. If fractions mean anything when it comes to souls, logic dictates that he put a full half of his soul into the first horcrux he made, a fourth into the next, and so on, and had only a sixtyfourth of his soul left in him by the time he finished. That still was enough to stubbornly anchor him to the mortal coil, unfortunately. Yes, I too am convinced he could have divided his soul as many times as he wished. Then again I was certain that Voldemort was completely insane for dividing his soul the first time. Somehow I never got around to sharing my views on either of those subjects with him."

"His grand purpose was immortality?"

"No, immortality was his means to achieve his grand purpose, if you want to call it that. Raised by Muggles, Riddle heard their mythologies when he was very small. He grew up believing in Heaven and Hell as perhaps only a magical child in a Muggle church-run orphanage truly can believe. He had faith, Miss Granger. He believed that Christian Hell was the inevitable fate of any dead wizard."

"He turned himself into a monster because he was afraid of going to Hell for being a wizard?"

"Voldemort is an example of the dangerous force that is blind faith."

"Speaking of blind faith, how soon may I take your Thanatos Elixir, sir?"

"It may take a few days to gather and prepare the ingredients for the antidote. I will let you know as soon as I have everything ready."

"What will it cost?"

"Cost?"

"For the ingredients of the antidote and for the Elixir, sir."

"As I recall, the Headmistress ordered that the staff of Hogwarts shall help you all we can. Therefore, I will help you all I can by billing Hogwarts for my expenses. I sincerely doubt the Headmistress will send you that bill as a graduation gift."

"I really don't think that's what the Headmistress had in mind when she said that, sir."

"Regardless, that is what she said. You really should learn how to listen."

"I think that kind of listening requires Slytherin ears. May I help you with the preparations at least?"

"As you pointed out, Thanatos as well as its antidote are illegal substances. Some of the ingredients are highly regulated. All of them are far less difficult to obtain than to prepare correctly. The smallest mistake will not kill you, only because you will be dead already."

"I won't make a mistake, sir."

"You would wager your life on that fact?"

"Yes sir."

"While I would be willing to wager my life on your abilities, Miss Granger, I will not risk yours. If you do not trust me, I can not help you."

"I trust you with my life, Professor. I'll just find some safer way to alleviate my boredom."

"The wise know when to stand on pride and when to yield."

"Gods, am I hallucinating or did you just quote Godric Gryffindor?"

"Do not expect me to do so again. That was his only sensible statement. Too bad he never followed that advice."

"I could never get around 'Winning in battle is better than losing in argument.' How could anyone even make such a comparison?"

"Who better to make the comparison? He did have ample practice doing both."

"I don't think I would have cared for any of the Founders, sir. They all sound terrible, each in his or her own way. I always thought Slytherin must have been the sanest as he had the good sense to get away from the other three."

"They were terrible, Miss Granger. All gods are. A thousand years from now, witches and wizards will read about the great and terrible god Harry Potter. If you wish to immortalize yourself, write that book."

"I believe I'd prefer a future filled with mentally challenging obscurity to an eternity of vapid fame. Besides, I know Harry never wanted another book written about him."

"More books will be written. The only question is whether you write about Harry Potter or leave his memory to the likes of Pascal Fleegle. One fact remains. You knew Mr. Potter better than anyone now living."

"You knew Voldemort better than anyone now living, sir. Why don't you write that book?"

"Because I refuse to succeed where six horcruxes failed. If Voldemort becomes immortal, it will not be my doing."

"I do hope his Wizard's Card comes out after I'm dead."

"I give you good odds of not being disappointed considering, if all goes well, your death is less than a week away."

"Why do other wizards take Thanatos Elixir?"

"When the antidote was first invented, ingesting Thanatos Elixir was a rather fashionable thrill. A mountain of bad poetry customarily scribbled down immediately upon rival stands as testament to the reliability of the antidote when properly brewed. It also also begs the question- why on earth did brewers bother? Today many are willing to ingest it for the purposes of curse-breaking. I suggested the option to Lupin. Not unexpectedly, he declined citing ethical objections as opposed to any suspicions he had concerning my intentions for suggesting it."

"Do you really think it might work as a cure for lycanthropy?"

"I'd gleefully take the risk to test my theory in Lupin's case."

"I happen to think Remus Lupin is a very nice person!"

"Never have I claimed otherwise."

"But you don't like him."

"He has never earned my respect."

"You can't respect him just because?"

"Just because of what? Because he almost killed me twice in Werewolf form due to poor judgment and general carelessness?"

"Because he's a person, sir."

"A theory wide open to debate."

"He is a person when he's not transformed!"

"I can not respect a person for being alive, no more than I can despise one for the same reason."

"How does one go about earning your respect, sir? I'd very much like to have it."

"You have my respect. You earned it your second year."

"How?"

"I showed you the memory."

"Stealing from you or reimbursing you after?"

"Both, not to mention brewing a successful Polyjuice Potion at age twelve. You were attempting to discover the identity of the Heir of Slytherin?"

"Yes sir. Ron and Harry impersonated Crabbe and Goyle trying to get the information from Draco. I attempted Millicent. I took some hair off her robe. I didn't know she had a Kneazle."

"She did not. Miss Parkinson owned the Kneazle, a solid black longhair. Miss Bulstrode happened to be very fond of it. Miss Lovegood looks after the poor beast now. She probably braids pansies into its fur."

"Well, it looked like her hair. I should have tested it. That's about all I learned after a whole month of brewing, that and the fact that Draco Malfoy knew more about Muggle housework than the Chamber of Secrets."

"As many detentions as he served with Filch I've no doubt he did."

"Muggle auto maintenance, then."

"Lucius kept a Maserati and a Lamborghini."

"Did they fly?"

"Only on the M5. After Draco failed the impossibly simple task of befriending Mr. Potter at the start of his first year, Lucius realized that Draco proved an inept errand boy. He never trusted him again. Occasionally, Draco learned bits of information when Lucius wasn't in Azkaban which proved invaluable to me. Until he murdered your parents Draco Malfoy worked far more effectively for the Light however inadvertent his commitment to the cause."

"I am sorry about Draco, sir."

"And just how was Draco Malfoy ever your fault?"

"I could have treated him better."

"I received no complaints about your mistreatment of Mr. Malfoy nor any other Slytherin for that matter."

"I punched him in the face third year."

"I am not surprised he forgot to mention it."

"Does anyone in your House have the nerve to complain to you about anything, sir?"

"It happened once."

"Stories abound about your House discipline. Did you really make Crabbe do a striptease in front of all the girls in Slytherin?"

"Certainly not. I gave him the choice of that or his immediate expulsion. Neither did I require the presence of all Slytherin females. Those with superior tastes or weak stomachs were excused from the proceedings. I could not help the fact that those who chose to attend enjoyed less of a show than Mr Crabbe had at their expense."

"What do you mean?"

"That punishment cured his particularly repulsive habit of hiding in the girls' showers to watch while pleasuring himself."

"Regardless of the crime that constitutes cruel and unusal punishment, sir."

"Not compared to what Miss Bulstrode did to him when she caught him in the showers."

"But sir, a striptease?"

"If enduring bouts of feminine laughter and ridicule traumatized him enough to keep fully clothed near any member of the opposite sex, I can only think that society benefited."

"According to British Common Law-"

"-which has as little to do with the Wizarding World as Newton's Laws. Our society is not based on law nor order, Miss Granger. We are laws unto ourselves. We order the chaos of our world according to our wills and abilities. If you do not believe our world is based on chaos, tell me where in the Muggle World winning a war would depend on an aging Headmaster and his boarding school students. The vast majority of wizards break some Ministry law, daily, as a matter of habit. I do not speak of Death Eaters. Consider Arthur Weasley's flying car, Dumbledore's unauthorized Port Keys, Minerva's unregistered Animagni forms, Flitwick's collection of Dark Charmed objects. I hardly know where to begin with Hagrid. Aside from what I had to do as a spy, I am the most law-abiding wizard I know. I have to be. Many at the Ministry, even members of the Order, would dearly love to lock me away forever for even the smallest of infractions, never mind possession of Thanatos Elixir."

"Thank you for trusting me."

"I choose my friends wisely though I have had few."

"Do you consider any of the other professors a friend?"

"They are my colleagues. I do not care to spend my free time with them. I do what I can to dissuade them from seeking my company."

"Dumbledore wasn't your friend?"

"He was my mentor. I served his cause. We were never friends."

"You're not talking about Slytherin friendships then."

The corners of his lips turned upward and he dropped his eyes. Good humor seemed to make him somewhat shy, Hermione noticed. That fact was strangely charming to her. "No. I'm speaking in banalities."

"I like you too."

"What are your plans for after graduation?"

"Will you ask me again when I'm free of my parasite?"

"Do you expect your plans to change?"

"I think it 's possible. Who knows? I just might have to factor in a breakdown when I get my emotions back."

"What ever I can do help, you only need ask."

"That's a rather dangerous promise. Isn't it?"

"Perhaps. You have it all the same."

"Do you need to do anything to prepare for your meeting?"

Snape shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose as if dread had settled into a headache there.

"Are they that bad?"

"The others seem to enjoy them."

"Would you like to play chess after? Thanks to Ron, I do know how the pieces move. Perhaps my parasite can play."

"It did nothing for Malfoy's game. However, it is most kind of you to play at all. I could manage to let you win."

"I don't want you to let me win!"

"Then prepare to be crushed."

"You might show me a thing or two while you're crushing me. Ron was a good player but had a terrible time putting his strategies into words. Maybe he just liked beating me too much to help me improve my game."

"We will play Muggle chess. I'm certain you can do without the distraction provided by Wizard pieces. After, I will show you where you went wrong and suggest how you can shore up your defenses and attack more effectively in the future."

"That would be wonderful. Will we have time for the game before dinner?"

"Yes, since you've given me an excuse to leave should the meeting run over."

"What, a very important chess game?"

"A lesson, of unspecified nature."

"You're welcome. I'll be in the Room of Requirement. Do you prefer white or black?"

"You pick."

"I'll take white then."

"Why?"

"White has the advantage."

"You do not seem the type to take the advantage."

"Someone has to take the advantage. I think it's fair since you are so experienced. I'm just learning after all. Besides how else will I show you how I open?"

"After we play we will switch positions to give you practice playing on both sides."

"Sounds exactly like what I require. See you after your meeting."

-More A/Ns! -Con-crit, flames, recipes, poetry, jokes, invitations, proposals, no matter how indecent, all is welcome, desired, yearned for and ever so appreciated. Will try to update soon. Thank you just for reading!


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